Harry Potter and the Great Conflict
by PSBlasius
Summary: Harry jumps after Sirius through the Veil, dragging Remus and Tonks along. What they find on the other side? HP Diablo Xover. Rated M for reason. Harry, Sirius, Remus, Dora, Deckard Cain, his new apprentice, and old heroes unite! Full summary inside!
1. Otherside

**Harry Potter and the Great Conflict**

_« Written by PSBlasius »_

Disclaimer: © JKRowling and © Blizzard Entertainment. If I were the owner of Harry Potter™ and Diablo™, then I would not write here for no profit.

_Rating_: M (though I would put it to NC-17, as this story is highly graphic and intense in every means, NOT FOR CHILDREN!!!)

_Genre_: AU, Crossover [Diablo-HP], supernatural, adventure (with action, mystery, good bit of humour and of course, romance)

_Warnings_: Graphic violence, torture, death. Nudity and sex. Foul language.

_Era_: OotP, but with a little different past. After the events of Diablo II, the start of Diablo III.

_Characters_: Harry, Sirius, Remus, Tonks, OCs [Cain, Leah, Charsi, Akara, Tyrael, Natalya, Pablo DeSoto, Izual, the Seven heroes from D2, Lilith, Inarius and lots of Big Bad Demons and Angels, involving the Primes.]

_Ships_: No fun telling... :P

Summary: Harry in one of his worse moments decide to jump after his godfather through the Veil. What they find in the other side is not exactly what they expect. Fire, darkness, smell of sulphur and decay. Talk about clichés, but Hell is Hell. But the real adventure starts only when they escape the Netherworld. Follow our four heroes from the British Wizarding World through their rough path in the foreign world of Sanctuary. Watch them learn the customs and ways of warfare and magic never seen. Watch them joining arms with the heroes of Sanctuary as they decipher mysteries, unveil conspiracies and go into battle that will shake Heaven, Earth and Hell.

* * *

Chapter One - Otherside

* * *

   "Nice hit, James!" called Sirius. I let my guard drop momentarily in surprise. He called me **James **again.

I turned to him for some reason, probably to correct him, though I doubt anything would have left my throat. He just taunted Bellatrix into a duel.

I watched as he mocked and laughed at her as if it was a game. But surprisingly enough, Bella was doing just the same. And not a single overly harmful spell was exchanged. No Unforgivables, barely any dark curses. Maybe they considered it, indeed, a game.

Dammit, Padfoot! If you screw up and end up injured or heavens forbid, dead...I'll kill you **again**.

I wondered if Bella really was that hateful towards her cousin. Was she that evil and twisted? There weren't too much Blacks around in the world anymore. In fact, Sirius was the only one capable of sustaining the bloodline. And any true Black's first priority over any dark lord and their war causes was to keep their blood pure and prosperous. So evidently, Bella wouldn't even think about killing Sirius, it was more likely that out of desperation, she'd seduce him and do herself up with him.

I shook my head to clear that insane thought. Good thing, as the moment I opened my eyes, I saw a red beam of light coming my way quite rapidly. I managed to dodge it by a centimetre. I know what Sirius said, to leave the matters to him now and concentrate on securing the prophecy instead. But that order was disobeyed inside my mind the moment he said it. I couldn't, wouldn't leave him behind ever. First off, he was my official godfather, my guardian, my friend, my brother, and also the brother to my father, so actually my uncle. He was like a father to me, in all honesty. Okay, that was a bit muddled. Second, I really loved the man. Padfoot, the Marauder. Third, I had to stay, as he couldn't look after himself evidently. Well, that's not really true, but from his personality, one would easily assume. I always did, just to irk him.

My assailant, who tried to curse me disengaged, because Tonks stepped in. Be however clumsy in civil, she is a deadly and graceful tigress when duelling. I hope nothing happens to her. I like her. I mean...I...not... Aw, man! Why am I elaborating? I'm single, in the age of Hormonal Olympics. I'm **allowed** to check girls out and like them, am I not? It's true she's a bit older, seven years to be precise, but how about I say, I don't give a shit? Cuz, it'll be the truth. Bill is exactly seven years older than Fleur, and nobody said a thing. Well, except for me. I said nasty things about William under my breath...but that's another story. I bet if I started an innocent little relationship with Tonks, everyone would jump in to tell how improper it is. Pros and Cons of being me...

I saw an opportunity. The Death Eater, who got engaged by Tonks, forgot I was there, and danced around so he showed his defenceless back to me. Joy. To make it more of a challenge, I tried a silent stupefy. And it worked! The red beam connected with his back and he fell like a stack of potatoes. Tonks looked at me, then grinned when I blew a kiss at her. Combat flirting! A new skill I found myself talented in...

Remus appeared behind me and asked for my medical condition. Some scratches, a split lip, at least one bruise on each of my limbs... that's about it. He nodded and turned to search for battle, but the three of us got distracted by Sirius' laughter.

   "That's all you got, dearest cousin? I though it took more skill to got into His rummy club..." he taunted with a grin. But to my fright, Bella appeared to see what **I** saw. A chance to strike!

   "Sirius!" I bellowed. And the bloody fool turned to me! I **will** kill him, next thing! "Don't play!"

   "_Stupefy!_" intoned Bella, affirming my suspicion, that she was far from wanting to kill him. But that didn't mean subduing him.

I watched as the red ray of unconsciousness struck Sirius square in the chest. It wasn't a worrisome thing. But him standing just before the Veil merely one or two feet away was. His face mirrored surprise and but otherwise calm. His left leg bent and his torso started to fall backwards.

I saw it in slow motion. My godfather falling through the curtain separating the land of living and dead. My perception on the world surrounding me disappeared and I just stood there forever, but I knew it was more like three seconds. My mind registered nothing of it. It just told me, that he'll stumble up on the other side. Other side...

That is not here. Not on this plane of existence. My godfather did not fall through a simple curtain, but through the barrier between opposite worlds. I couldn't tell when my legs started to move, I couldn't tell how I managed to shake off Remus' restraining arms. I couldn't tell what I was thinking at the time. Probably nothing and it was an instinctual move, like I always did, when something unimaginable or new happened. My instincts have never betrayed me yet. This, however, doesn't really justify a suicide, does it? Well, like so many said, I'm not a normal guy, try as I might. So, I jumped.

And dragged Remus with myself...

To whom Tonks clung with a death grip...

And the three of us followed Sirius into the unknown abyss.

* * *

Whatever I expected, this wasn't among them.

We ended up in a pile of mingled limb upon each other on a hard surface. I'm not really complaining as Tonks was atop of me, her incredible boobs pressing into my face. I would stay this way for a bit more, but we had to examine our situation and surroundings. We just crossed to the Land of the Dead after all.

We laid in a black slightly warm floor. Dirt or some kind of cinder. Our skin started to sweat for it was quite hot and our senses were invaded by a foul, awful stench. Sulphur and the smell of rotting flesh. Darkness surrounded us, bright torches and bonfires were our only beacons that gave us some sense of orientation. Odd wailing, crying noises attacked our ears. They were filled with despair and pain.

I had to admit this whole place scared the shit out of me. And by the looks of others... Remus was staring intently into one direction. Being a werewolf, his eyes were the best among us. But those eyes now had an eerie light in them. Was it...fear? Tonks was on her feet and was spinning around, trailing her wand wherever she heard something. She was obviously frightened. But her Auror instincts were on and were working fine. Sirius' face is just...

**Sirius!**

I bolted to him and dropped to knees beside his laying, unconscious form. I started to shake him, before I realized that one cannot shake a man from a Stupefy caused stun. After a quick Enervate, his eyes popped open and immediately searched for his opponent, almost cursing me in the process.

   "Padfoot, it's me! Easy! The duel is over. It's just me."

   "Bloody hell! What happened?"

   "You being an arrogant git! That's what happened!" I growled, angry at him out of blue. He just looked at me confused. "You stopped to taunt Bella, you moron, all the while presenting you full bloody undefended body for her! It's no surprise she stunned you!"

   "But why are you so angry then? It was just a stunner. I'm fine. And you are too."

   "Would you look around?"

He did. And could only gape at the hellish scene. I could see his unease and the immediate caution sitting on his face.

   "Are you quite finished?" asked Remus in a quite voice what he meant to be calm, but it was anything but. "I think someone...something is approaching."

We stood and joined him and Tonks, subconsciously forming a half-circle. In the shadows of firelight a dark figure could be seen. It was short and...brief. A big lump. No distinct limb was visible in the dim light. We only heard a low squelching, slurping noise that could only come from the thing.

   "What the unholy shit is that?" asked Tonks with noticeable fear and repulsion in her voice.

   "Maybe we should ask?" try Sirius. We all look at him momentarily. He just lift his hand in defence. But suddenly the slurping became louder and more...wet. One could have got the impression that the thing was taking a deep breath. "Maybe it's trying to tell us..."

The answer was a big, disgusting looking goo flying towards us.

   "DUCK!" I shouted and threw myself at Tonks. Why Tonks? Honestly, do I have to give reasons?

The dripping, stenching...spitball missed her head by inches and caught ground a few feet behind us. A stray drop of the sticky yuck fall on my sweatshirt and it started to sizzle and eat the textile like corrosive acid. I screamed and tore the clothes off me. Lucky, that I had a crimson T-shirt underneath. Panting and in adrenaline high, I turned to the others.

   "If this was the welcome, return it in kind," I said in a steely voice with an expression and stance I though would be very macho. Wands drawn we locked on the creature, what started to gather its 'spit' again.

   _"Sectumsempra!" _I bellowed and the invisible swords slashed into its dark greenish skin. The spitting terror squealed and wiggled as disgusting bloody blobs of intestines burped out of the largest slash on its midsection.

The guts seemed to be half-digested human torsos and other parts of humanoid bodies. And apparently, that ball of shit that it had spit on us was some part of one of our kin's deceased corpse too. Utterly disgusting and sick! Thank the Heavens that the thing stayed down after its injuries.

   "Harry, that was a Dark Curse," stated Remus warily. I just look at him with emotionless face. We encounter a giant, bloody corpse-vomiting worm and all he can observe is me using a 'dark' spell. "I don't want to know where you learned it, but it's not wise to use them."

   "Oh, right, Moony. Next time I see our smelly little friend I'll tickle it to suffocation with a Rictusempra!" A deaf man could pick up the sarcasm in my voice. "We are in **Hell**, for Merlin's Sake! Who the heck cares what curse I use?"

   "**I** care, for instance," the werewolf said firmly.

   "I appreciate it, Remus. But if I ever decide to go evil, it won't be because of a curse. We make the curse dark, with our intention and way of usage. Not the other way around. I can use a sectumsempra to chop firewood or prepare a chicken's breast for roasting. And that thing wasn't really concerned about vomiting fuckin' dead people and their severed parts on us! I consider myself justified."

   "You may be right. I'm just worried…"

   "I know, Uncle Moonhowler. But you should worry about our current situation for the time being. Look behind you for a start," I advise and nod at the rapidly approaching group of more humanoid like creatures.

If the problem with the previous monster was that it possessed no limbs or tentacles or any protruding flesh on its body, now, these creatures owned one pair too **much**. Two muscular arms, each holding some long object that glittered in the light. Swords most likely. And they've got wings! Big, bat-like wings. Their height was remarkable, at least two feet higher than Sirius, who was the tallest with his 5"9'. There was four of them, so it'd be a fair, equated battle, if they decide to engage.

And it appeared so, as one of them shot a spray of inferno towards us. It may have been on purpose as we got separated as we jumped aside. The two Marauders on one side, Tonks and I on the other.

   "They breathe fire. So consider them dragonkin," diagnosed Tonks from beside me.

   "Agreed. Let's see whether their hide is just as thick! _Sectumsempra!_"

The dark knives curse's invisible energy blades swooshed towards the demon and its skin simply absorbed it.

   "_Defodio!_" tried Tonks, but the cutting curse received the same fate. She glanced at me with fearful eyes. "Ideas?"

   "None yet," I fret, backing away quickly, but keeping a tab on the Marauders position. They, apparently, were just as clueless as us.

   "Hey! Try conjured projectiles!" she advised, as she magicked out a spear and hurled it towards the monstrosity with some velocity. The spear sliced the ever decreasing distance between them and after an excruciating one second filled with stressed anticipation, the tip of the spear tore into the thick black hide and impaled half its length into the beast's right chest. The demon staggered back and dropped to half knee, howling out in pain, but then with a grunt, broke the snag in its chest off. And struggled to its feet, resuming its approach.

   "Shit! Guys, magical resistants! Go for conjured physical objects!" I shouted to the Sirius and Remus, who were now in the attempt to dodge wildly, for the demons reached them and both lifted their swords to strike down. I watched until they successfully avoided being chopped into parts. That was enough, because our situation with Dora wasn't too much better either. She already conjured up a two short swords for herself. "Dora, could you make me one too?"

   "You can't?" she screamed back before she lunched herself to the right moments before a giant bastard sword crashed the ground she stood on.

   "I'm a freakin' fifth year, Dora!"

   "Hardy the average... Same as with a rope!"

   "Huh?" I asked as I tried something I thought up just now. These things emitted fear, for I was in the brink of shitting my pants full and Dora was quivering as far as I could see. So maybe… I found Sirius alive… He lives… My face between Dora's tits… That's the one! "_Expecto Patronum!_" I cried and Spectral Prongs pounced out of my wand in its full silvery incarnated glory. He charged for the demon attacking Dora… And it worked! The demon stopped short and recoiled back, repulsed by the bliss and love Dad's guardian spirit emitted.

Dora got up and looked at me in deep thought. I nodded silently and she closed her eyes and took up a face of utter concentration, than pure happiness softened her angelic face and finally she said clearly, loudly.

   "_Expecto Patronum!_" However, no animal spirit came out from her wand and for a second I thought she messed up, but the thick beam of silvery substance erupted from her wand pointed skywards. And it formed a dome around us, all four of us. I could only stare at wonder. It was beautiful, just like the thing that was its source.

   "Whoa, Dora! This is awesome! And just in time…look!" Sirius said as he and Remus ran to us, the dome having scared off their demons too. He pointed forward, and true to his word beyond the wall of the dome, actually in every direction, masses of various demons and horrors waited and stalked impatiently. The lust for their blood was evident in their evil gaze. We appeared to be surrounded.

   "Guys…I could use…some help…" Dora breathed. Her face still mirrored bliss as she was smiling contently, but sweat glistened on her forehead and her arm was trembling a little.

   "How?" Remus asked.

   "Gimme…more! Happy… Love…" she whispered, barely audible above the humming of the dome and the shrieks and roars of the horrors. We looked at each other unsure if we should proceed like we though we should. Sirius just shook his head and backed away. No wonder as they were related. Remus looked at Dora, then at me, then back at her. His eyes were tormented, pleading to me. He didn't wanted to do, what was circulating in both of our minds. And I… Do I? Am I capable and, more so, willing to do something? Apart from any fantasies and playful thoughts, this was Tonks. I was not sure of myself nowadays. I had a few girlfriends…okay three. Two and a half. Cho doesn't count as a full. And that thing with Fleur was really nice, but not overly permanent. Fleur, my beautiful flower, was just lusting after me. **Just?!** A creature so fucking – uh, sorry – beautiful, that like with a basilisk, you could die by looking at her too long. A Veela, sexy, gorgeous, talented, powerful, sensual, ah...I'm done. And that woman was **lusting** after me! I'm not an idiot. I took the opportunity in a stride. Funny, that a 'flower' took my innocence away... Unfortunately, she had to go back home. Then she met Bill, and I was shunned away like a...dried bouquet. Sad as I was – and furious at Bill – my self-esteem took a huge boost. I mean, me and a Veela, who lusted after my ass? So I grew confidence, Sirius 'helped' a lot and after a while I started the thing with Katie, who was my second biggest crush after Cho. For some reason, it ended nearly with the end of the world. It was catastrophic. I'm still not sure why or who was to fault... Overall, from the lack of success, I ceased the activity involving women. Two months ago… Alright, I have no idea what I am babbling about or why. Why am I hesitating? I suddenly remembered my family's motto I read in an wizarding etymology lexicon in Hogwarts' library. _'Fortune favours the bold._'

Taking it to heart, I made my decision. We were in Hell, after all, so why not enjoy myself, while I can? I pushed Moony away and walked up to her. I gently took her cheek in my hand, brushing my thumb on her delicate skin. She opened her bright, vivid, currently golden hue eyes and stared into my own green ones. Entranced could be the right word to describe my state of being. I never knew when my lips touched hers, I could only remember the elation and ecstasy of the amorous connection. She was so soft and sweet. I kissed a few times before, but this took the price without doubt. Fleur was precise, aiming for maximal pleasure, but dominating too. Katie was sweeter, but more insistent and needy. Cho…nevermind. Dora felt wonderful and she was so awfully gentle that it was more erotic than a searing, rough kiss. My arm slithered around her slim waist as primal instincts took over and I pressed her frame against mine. Her free hand came up to rest on my chest as she fully realized what was going on. Her head tilted and those delicate rose-petals posing as her lips went to deepen the osculation. My tongue decided to gain independence here and now and licked her upper lip, whilst she suckled on my lower. She responded by devouring my mouth fully and allowing entrance for my rebellious tongue.

We were totally oblivious of the happenings around us. Her outstretched arm stopped trembling as an intense surge of magic shot through it into the dome, strengthening and expanding it multiple times. The horde of demons roared and fled back into their lair, unable to withstand the positive emotions that filled the barrier of the dome.

By the time we were alone in the dark, we somehow managed to get to the ground, her arm still erect and pointing to the dark sky. I was a least bit concerned, all that existed at that time was Dora. So I didn't hear the two marauders stop cheering and starting cursing as a new horror appeared. So I try to tell, what Sirius and Remus told me later.

Beyond the shiny dome a enormous figure emerged from the shadows. It was glowing in dark bluish light. As it neared the border of the light the dome emitted, its features crystallized for them to behold. Its skin seeded to be some kind of dark blue stone. Its wings too were petrified into the dark blue substance. Its head was of a demons with its eyes burning with azure fire and with its three long horns. It wore a shiny golden armour and wielded a beautiful blade that also glowed blue. It simply stepped through the dome and stopped a dozen feet before us.

   "Save yourselves!" it roared before raising its blade high and charging for Sirius and Remus.

Sirius hastily conjured a two-handed sword and lifted it rapidly to block the attack. The blow was parried, though he was knocked to the ground by its force. All the while Remus strafed to the side and cast two Impedimena curse at it in rapid succession. Hah, Remus and his faith in light curses… I would have shouted at him, had I been aware of what's going on and had my mouth wasn't all too occupied with Dora's.

Sirius got to his feet and instantly was forced to duck down to preserve his head firmly connected to his neck.

   "Guys! So much thanks for your selfless sacrifice in driving the demons away, but we might have a little problem here! SO STOP SNOGGING AND HELP!"

We were totally engrossed in each other, so the message did not reach us. He just grumbled and focused entirely on the beast. He used the demons momentum as it carried the sword far from him to strike. His conjured iron gave a metal clinging sound as it clashed with its hard skin. Apart from a large chunk of rock separating from its knee, the demon didn't look too concerned about the hit. So much so, that it used its left hand to bash Sirius knocking him back full ten feet and into unconsciousness. Remus after try vainly with defensive curses, chose to try another approach.

   "_Lumos solem!_" he shouted and the beam of sunlight erupted from his wand right into the demon, who roared and shielded its eyes, but was otherwise unaffected by the spell.

The demon then got pissed and charged for Remus, who's mind was frozen into the icy stupor of fear. It grabbed him within his claws and stared into the werewolf's eyes.

   "You cannot harm me, Mage! But I can you!" it rasped and threw Remus away like a ragdoll. It apparently was just toying with them. But as both Marauders were thrown far away, and Dora and I were much closer, it chose to play with us instead.

My mind still was ensnared in thoughts involving Dora in highly sexual situations, so evidently I couldn't perceive the clawed hand gripping and tearing me off Tonks. My mind crashed back to present the moment I saw the demon's face.

   "You possess dirty thoughts, Mage!" it growled. And I suddenly saw Tonks and I. She was tied up in shackles to a standing stone facing it and was completely nude. I was behind her, naked too, and was in the process of violating her anus so roughly that she was screaming. I was gripping her hips so hard that my nails tore into her flesh and now and then I spanked her ass hard causing her the shriek. The scene changed slightly, I was standing further behind and was torturing her backside mercilessly with a spiky whip, disregarding her uncontrollable sobs of anguish and pleas to stop. Her back and her butt-cheeks were now reduced to dripping, shredded, bloody mess. Raw flesh hanging from her bones... HOLY JESUS! These weren't my thoughts! I would never! No! NO!

   "_**NO!**_" I heard my hoarse voice bellow as I ejected the foreign presence in my mind. "If you touch her with one finger…" I started the empty threat, but I couldn't have finished it if I had wanted to, because the demon laughed out in a thundering and terrifying voice.

   "I find your threat amusing. Righteous anger, yes! It is justified, as is your companion's…"

Another vision. This time Dora straddled me, but I was face down. And she was drenched in blood and her flesh was green, purple, deadly, rotten, with big chunks of flesh just missing from places... She was an animated corpse! And she was drowning me in her own pool of blood, plus strangling me with my own ripped out bowels! Holy freakin' shit! What a fucked up nightmare were we in?

I forced myself to grip reality again and return to my own mind. I was screaming. And the cursed demon was laughing and relishing my mental torment. _Think quick, Potter! You aren't going to reserve the title 'Boy Who Lived' for long if you don't come up with something! _And as always, the help came from the outside.

   "Kiddo!"

I looked over the shoulder of the laughing beast and saw my godfather throwing his sword into the air towards me. To give myself some credit, I was always quick on my feet, just as now.

   "_Accio sword!_" I said as I silently thank the Gods that my wand was in my hand and my hand was free from the demon's hold. The sword flew into my grip just as the demon took notice, but now fast enough to close its sulphur smelling mouth. With Quidditch honed speed, my arm thrust forward and pinched the demon's jaws wide open. Almost instantly a put my wand in its orifice and, not having any better ideas, cried the first incantation that I deemed effectual.

   "_Expecto Patronum!_" I used the memory I acquired just a few minutes ago. My heavenly make out with Dora.

I couldn't make out Prongs, but a blinding beam of light poured down the demon's throat as it roared up, then threw me to the ground. I landed hard next to Tonks, who was, though deadly exhausted, watching the entire scene fold out. After steadying me up, we watched as the demon bellowed its anguish into the darkness, while its skin cracked up and from the cracks bright azure light poured out. Its hands groped its head, while roaring and finally after dancing around blindly, it fall down on its knees. The light in canyons of the cracks intensified and finally, when the whole horrific figure was engulfed in light, it went silent and crashed face down into the dirt. And stayed there motionless, apparently, for good…

Tonks grabbed me and drew me into a hug as she softly cried her fears out of her system. Peering into the distance, I saw Sirius checking on Remus. Finally, it seemed all terror was over. At least for now. But maybe I was hasty with such statements…

Tonks gasped and raised her head from my shoulder. I turned to look what could caught her attention to see it was the demon. Its remains, to be certain. The light, that glowed through the skin was still there, but now it was concentrated into a prone figure. The figure was made of some tattered clothes and few rusty pieces of armour. It got a cloak over its head and the face was a mere black, gaping hole. The light encircled it and spread out like wings from its back. If the demon was hellish, this 'reincarnation' of it was definitely angelic. Mostly for the fact that it no longer emitted a menacing, frightening aura. It rose from the ground and hovered a foot above the reamins of its demonic shell.

   "Forgive me, noble warriors…" it said. We could just stare at it dumbfounded. "Forgive my sins, for I have many. I have failed. I have fallen." Its voiced was indeed laced with deep sorrow and regret.

   "Who are you?" I asked, just to give the impression that we were sentient being, not animated war-machines.

   "I once was the Archangel Izual, lieutenant to the Archangel Tyrael, wielder of the sacred blade, Azurewrath, leader of the attack on Hellforge. The mission I was destined to fail. Yet, I have tried and thus have fallen. I was corrupted by the vile influence of the Prime Evils and my spirit was bound within this foul demon's shell for many decades. I thank you for destroying my unholy prison."

   "Your welcome…" I said uncertainly. This was starting to get even more insane. "Are you really…an…an angel?"

   "I once was the Archangel Izual, lieutenant to the Archangel Tyrael, wielder of the sacred blade, Azurewrath, leader of the…"

   "Okay, okay! I get it. Could you tell us, what is this place exactly and how to get out of here?"

   "This," Archangel Izual, lieutenant to the Archangel Tyrael, wielder of Azurewrath, etcetera said gesturing widely around, "Is the Plain of Despair. The largest region of the Burning Hells."

   "Wait! You mean, we are truly in Hell?" demanded Dora with wide eyes. Ha, where the fuck else we would be?

   "Aye. Tell me, mortals, how is it that you are here?" Izual asked.

   "Through a Veil. It apparently connected our world with this Burning Hell, or whatever," I replied with a grimace. If this was the afterlife, I could deeply and truly understand Voldemort's desire to avoid death. Of course, maybe there was a Veil that led to the Heavens…

   "So you wish to return to Sanctuary? I will help you as a token of my gratitude for freeing my spirit," Izual promised.

   "Sanctuary?" Sirius chimed in as he reached us, dragging Remus' still unconscious body with him.

   "Your homeland. Didn't you say you desired to return home?"

   "Yes, we did. But it's England. In the UK," I elaborated for the angel. However, Sanctuary might be what Earth was called here… I really hoped.

   "I do not understand, human. The only plane of existence between the High Heavens and the Burning Hells is Sanctuary. I can only bring you there. You intrigue me, mortals. You speak of distant lands and your attire speak of your foreign nature as well. However, I cannot help you, unless you wish to travel to Sanctuary."

I looked at Dora, who just shrugged, indicating that it didn't matter to her. I could only agree. Any other place would be better that this. Sirius looked at me and I nodded. He addressed Izual this time.

   "We wish to travel to this Sanctuary."

   "Very well! I shall make you a portal that will lead to Tristram, the place where I have last set my foot on the mortal's plane. But before you go, please, accept there gifts from me, for I have no longer use for them," he said and with that, he lifted an amulet from his 'neck' and gave it to Tonks. Then raised his hand high, like Dora did with the dome-patronus spell.

   "Shard of Azurewrath! Come hither, I command you!" Izual boomed in his peculiar voice. In his palm a blue crystal torrent appeared. It was glowing softly with inner brilliance. "My saviour," he addressed me. Cool, now I'm not only the BWL and the Chosen One, but the Saviour of an archangel too! "I present you the last remaining shard, from my blade, Azurewrath. You may find, that it is useless for now, but know, that within this torrent, the spirit of the sword still resides strongly. Find Deckard Cain, he can guide you with his wisdom. Bring the Shard to Charsi, the blacksmith. She is the one, who can imbue this shard into a weapon with the Horadric Malus. Keep it safe, guard it, for this is a priceless gift, not meant for mortals to wield. Accept this along with my eternal gratitude," he said and then gestured with his hand and a with a bright flash of light a fiery portal came to existence before us.

   "Now, I bid you farewell, noble warriors. May the Light guide you on your path."

   "Wait!" Tonks halted him. "What is this amulet?" she asked, holding it out. It was silvery and consisted of a sword glyph forming a cross before a pair of angel wings.

   "That is my symbol. In dire need, when your lives are at stake and you are in need of desperate help, just hold it tight and call for me. And so I shall come and aid you."

   "Thanks," breathed Dora, looking in awe at the charm.

   "Safe travels, mortals! And please, give a word to Tyrael for me. Tell him, that the Lessers are moving! Tell him, that the consequences of his actions soon will come to light! Tell him!" Izual said last and faded out from the air, like the morning mist in a breeze. Leaving us behind blinking and unmoving. Few good minutes passed before we started to function again.

   "Who's Tyrael?" was Sirius' first comment, not belying himself.

   "You absolutely lack any observation skill, don't you?" said Dora in a painful tone. "He's Izaul's superior. Guess an Archangel too. When we meet him, we gotta pass the message."

   "Do you remember it, dear cousin?" retorted Sirius with dignity. Dora only glared at him.

I didn't really paid any heed to their banter. I was busy staring at the shard of the Azurewrath. It **was** really beautiful. And it seemed to study me. As if it had a mind of its own. Abruptly, as if catching one of my passing thoughts a silver socket materialized around the shard and was inserted on a silver chain. I just thought about putting it somewhere safe, and it solved my problem in a blink. Great! Without further ado, I hanged it around my neck and tucked it 'safely' behind my shirt.

Turning my awareness towards the cousins and seeing them still on about, I walked to Remus, ignoring them and Enervated him. With a grunt, Moony came back to reality.

   "Feeling fine?" I inquired with a cheeky grin.

   "Damn… No. I'm not you, you brat. I'm not denying my precise health. My head want to split and I think my wrist is broken," he gritted out, obviously in pain.

   "Lemme fix your wrist temporarily, until we can find a proper healer. _Ferula!_" I said and a splint coiled around his, fortunately, left forearm. He winced, but restrained his agony.

   "Thanks," he breathed. "What happened?"

   "Uh, it's a long and very weird story…" I started and was interrupted by a high shriek from the distance. It definitely was not human. "But I suggest we leave this cursed place first and chat later."

   "Did I tell you how very bright young man you are?"

The demonic cry startled out the bickering pair from their business as well and they were turning around, looking for the source.

   "Sirius, help Remus and go through the portal! Now!" I commanded, while rushing to Dora. Why, I didn't know, but it gave me some comfort and good feeling to be near her. "Dora…"

She drew me close and kissed me roughly, but shortly. It was wonderful, though. And with that, she **hurled **me through the swirling event-horizon of the portal, following me shortly.

* * *

If I expected some dimension travelling effect with insane spinning velocity and trailing stars, I'd be disappointed. We just stumbled out on the other side, as if we just stepped through a simple doorstep. Izual, man... Too lazy for some special-effects? No matter.

But I don't know when Izual walked Tristram's streets last time, but the fact that place was not much better then the Plains of Despair, betrayed that it was not in these days. The only difference was the very faint sunlight sifting through the grey clouds above.

Before us laid the sight of a village raised and burnt to the ground with only one structure intact. It stood proudly, but somewhat menacing. Towering towards the Heavens. However, the shadows faulting onto its walls gave an impression anything, but heavenly.

I admit, this gothic Cathedral gave me the creeps…

* * *

**A/N:** There. How did you like it? I made a few alteration in both world's prehistory. Harry is not that naïve and clueless as he was in the books this time - in my opinion. What the changes were are irrelevant, but their affects will become clear as we progress into the story. And some history will probably be revealed. Like his modified relationship with Sirius and the thing with Fleur and Katie. In Sanctuary, I changed the bit with Izual. In the course of event in the game Diablo II, Izual is defeated by the player and he don't possess the Azurewrath. The Shard is my creation as is his demonic form. True, it's based on his appearance in the game, but not entirely. Also, there when killed, only his spirit is freed., not the real guy. The time is approximately the same when the future 3rd sequel of the VG Diablo saga will take place, so almost two decades after the Diablo II. And my plot will develop from the few facts we can know from the trailers, lore and other things revealed involving Diablo III. The story in whole, however, may likely be completely different from the future story of D3. So no spoilers :) And if I guessed something right…oh well!

I'd really like to see your opinions in written form, please! Review!

Till next time, fellas!

PSB


	2. Anotherside

**_Harry Potter and the Great Conflict_**

_« Written by PSBlasius »_

Disclaimer: Copyright © JKRowling and © Blizzard Entertainment. If I were the owner of Harry Potter™ and Diablo™, then I would not write here for no profit.

* * *

Chapter Two – Anotherside

* * *

"Halt! Tell who you are!" ordered one of the man clad in cold metal from head to toe. Apparently a guard. Why a cathedral would need armed guards? Now that was a good question. But looking at our current status, that being my head mere inches from the tip of a halberd, I thought better that to ask.

"My name is Harry Potter and..."

"Haripotter? What kind of name is that? Are you from the north?" the guard cut me short. The sharp blade never moving away from my face. It was quite uncomfortable speaking like this. Though, my name didn't mean anything and that was a BIG brownie point for Sanctuary. Even more, it appeared that my name sounded silly for the guard's ears. Dignity aside, the though was refreshing.

"No. In fact, we came from the south. Very deep south. And just call me Harry," I said with a warm smile. Dumbledore always charmed everyone with the grandfather smile. Call me a thief...

"Herrri... Is it a kind of girl name? Or its pet form or something?" the other guard, who stood on the left side and had his halberd trailed on Sirius said. Okay, this was starting to get old. Harry was a medieval English form of Henry, meaning 'home ruler or power'. Maybe my name is not the best sounding in the universe, but one 'joke' is more than enough on it! And he was laughing!

"No, Ironman. It's the short from of Henry," I told him with a growl. He stared blankly. "Henrique? Or...Henrik?" Come on you metal-skulled moron! Pick one!

"Henryk! Now that is a name!" the first guard decided. Joy. "The others?"

Dora attempted to introduce herself, but I gestured to leave it to me. I already had a reputation with the dutiful guard.

"The lady on my right is Nymphadora, the man beside me is Remus and steadying him is Sirius." Yeah, alright! Don't make a barb on little Nymphie or Sirius... Am I sulking? Man, reprove me next time!

"What business brought you here?"

"Our business concerns only us. And my friend is injured, so I'd genially appreciate it if you allowed us to enter," I stated firmly. This conversation started to get on my nerves. Remus was really injured and needed tending and these pounces were playing the bouncers. To top that all, I had **really** wanted to know what was going on. Like how in the name of Mah-Gick did we get here? Where is **here**? All we knew was the name of the village, Tristram and that it was in this Sanctuary that was in between Heaven and Hell. But that's all and not at all reassuring. This could be the purgatory by the looks of it. We just fought off hordes of demons. Redeemed the corrupted spirit of an archangel. And travelled from Hell to this place through a portal. If this is a nightmare, it was bloody good time I woke up. And these apes weren't exactly helping the matter, only in my headache building project. Give one minute and this conversation will not be civil anymore...

"Your business concerns us, if you desire to enter the Old Cathedral. We cannot allow any more looters in!" Ahh, the reason revealed itself as it always does in the end. They guard the treasures.

"Fear not, good knight," I intoned loftily. "We are not urged by needy greed to raid. We do not thrive to thief you treasures. Only the one mental in source. Knowledge is what we seek." Man, I was a bard in my previous life...

"Knowledge, you say. Then you must be coming to Master Cain," the second guard deduced.

"Indeed," I nodded immediately. I had a vague idea who this Cain fellow was, Izual seemed to mention him, but he was inside and that was all that mattered for now. He also must be few levels above these two in intelligence judged by his title, I thought. Not that I wanted to insult the guards, they only did their jobs...

"Many wish to meet and speak with Master Cain. But he is a busy man and do not accept to see any second w-wanderer," the guard said and oddly enough shuddered visibly at the word wanderer. I think, I will test the reaction to Voldemort. It would appear that names starting with 'V' or 'W' tended to make people shudder. Hilarious...

"We were sent here by the Archangel Izual..." chimed in Dora. The timing was right, the line, however, was not. The first guard gripped the halberd firm and backed away a little, assuming a defensive stance. The second discarded his polearm and drew his sword and shield standing next to his pair also in an aggressive defensive pose.

"Back off, Envoys of Hell! Back off or we will attack!" the first one threatened, but with traces of fear audible in his voice. Now, what the fuckin hell was **that** all about? Envoys of Hell? And then it hit me. Izual had been corrupted, had been a fallen angel from what he said for a quite long time now. People must knew him as a fallen angel. Oh, crappity shit! Please, twist this some more!

"It's not what you think. We freed Izual's spirit from his demonic bounds. The **Archangel** Izual has sent us!" I tried to negotiate. Alas, the two ogres gave up on reason and turned deaf.

"Silence, hellspawn! I will not listen to your vile demonic influence!"

"Oh, you bloody heap of scrap-metal! Would you shut up and listen? **Really** listen?" I growled angrily and threw my hand up in exasperation. The tone and the move only made matters worse as the first guard thrust his bill at me and I had to dodge to avoid getting an oversized piercing into my stomach. I was about to curse the sodding git into pieces when divine intervention arrived in the form of a very lovely lady. Cheers, I will pray more...promise.

"What is this racket?" demanded the girl.

She wasn't too much older than I was. Probably around seventeen. And she was by the Gods, **pretty**. Her face was soft and a heart-shaped, much like Dora's, but was sharper slightly. Like a hawk's. Her delicate brows rested low in a inquiring frown. Her sparkling hazel eyes roamed the scene about taking in every detail. Her whole face radiated natural intelligence and perceptiveness, but these were overlaid by her pure, graceful **beauty**. Typically someone whom you would likely underestimate and learn the hard way how wrong you were. And all this from her face. I'm getting good at this reading people stuff. The girls would be proud... Gin beam with pride at her student – thanks, sugar -, but Mione would likely be a bit huffy-puff that I know a skill she and Ginny monopolized in our little group. But I've got sidetracked... Tell me if I'm steering off, really. Soo... The girl had straight, dark honey coloured hair. Its longer bangs were combed back and were secured with a red headband and a few of shorter bangs hanged onto her forehead and before her eyes in a awfully adorable way. Overall, I may like this Tristram after all. The third human being I've met was her. Good odds.

Her eyes locked onto me. Boring into mine. Gosh, I felt vulnerable and guilty. Why? Uh..yeah! Why! Her frown deepened after a few second of ogling, then she averted her gaze at my chest, squinted and finally gasped out.

"Be careful, milady! These are demons from Hell sent by Izual! They said so themselves!" the first guard cautioned, moving to shield her with his armoured body. Wow, I lost track of time for a while, for I haven't the slightest clue how long I stared at her of how long we were gaze-locked. I shook my head to... increase my headache. Au.

"Orek, Denek! Stand down! Stand down! You are far too trusty. They could have said that they were from Westmarch to collect the taxes! And what do you think, were they really demons under Izual's command, would they tell it to you just like that?"

"Er... I guess...no."

"Of course not!" she snapped. "Now stand down and do a patrol around the Cathedral! I'll handle these...demons..."

"Lady, are you quite sure? It may be unsafe to..." started the second guard, probably Denek.

"I am sure!" she stated firmly and bored into the soldier's eyes.

"Milady, I would readily dispose of them if you required so," I offered as knightly as I could. However...

"No, you just stay where you are and keep your mouth!" she ordered, not even glancing at me. Next, she commanded again. "Guards, do a patrol around the perimeter. Let. Me. Handle. This." Orek and Denek bowed in head.

"As you wish, my lady," they said and strafed warily out of our sight.

Once they were scarce in our presence, the lady turned towards me. She was locked dead on and solely on my chest, at the exact point where the Shard hanged beneath my shirt. As if she knew it was there. Perhaps she really did. Slowly, step by step, she walked up right in front of me and raised her hand above the Shard. She did not touch, just held it right an inch above it. I was looking right at her face, but she was completely and so cutely oblivious of it. Her face was open and showed wonder, curiosity, recognition and something Hermione's showed as well when she saw an old dusty tome. I could kiss her forehead without too much motion, it was barely two inches away... Ah, I was maybe a little preoccupied, so I didn't even notice her now looking right into my eyes and it was very possible that she spoke too.

"How?" was her say. From her tone, my suspicion was confirmed, she did spoke before.

"I'd start with another. What, pray tell me my lady, might your name be?" It was fairly obvious, in my opinion, that everybody knew I was not listening, so it would have served no good to remind them to it.

"This is my territory, I state the rules. I ask questions. You are just plain strangers to me, so I have no obligation to answer." told the girl quite more firmly than her appearance would suggest. Now that was why I never judged anyone by first impressions. Underestimation was a nasty experience once realized.

"Oh, whoa! We're just playing the game called conversation. Not our territory, true. But the first rule or more like requirement of a conversation is **two** people at the least. So can we try? Will never outlive being strangers to you if you won't let us talk. In fact, us being strangers are relative. You are a stranger too in our eyes. So if you refer to the 'Stranger clause', then I don't have to answer you either, lady," I told her. Looking back, I should say: wow! I sure can improvise!

In her response, she actually smiled and relaxed her stance a bit. But as it soon became apparent, it was only because she drew her blade to casually place it on my shoulder in a way that my jugular artery was just below the sharp edge.

"I see your tongue is sharp, Outlander. I don't see any bladed weapons with you, so probably you're a spell-caster. Those do usually have silver tongues... Knowing this, I ask again: How did you meet Izual? How did you defeat him? And how did the Shard of Azurewrath come to your possession?"

This girl is no nonsense, that's for sure.

"We can only answer two out of your questions, lady," said Remus in a calm voice that was a trademark of his, but its effect was lessened by the concerned look which he stared at the intimate closeness of the blade and my neck with. "For we have absolutely no idea how we ended up in Hell. Izual in his demonic form approached us as we were surrounded by hordes of demons. He attacked and we were on the loosing side. He grabbed this fine young man here, and attempted, as I saw, to devour him alive. However, he managed to cast a strong spell that freed Izual's spirit from his unholy shell. Now, the spirit of the Archangel Izual talked to us and as a token of his gratitude, he gifted **Henryk **with the Shard. That's about the story."

The young woman scrutinized each of us in length, then gave a curt nod.

"I believe you. The Shard could only have gotten into your hands if by granted as a gift or by pure, forced violence. Your eyes are not tainted with cold-blooded murder and malice, Outlander. So the only other option confirms your story," she said and lifted the blade of her sword from my neck. I released a sneaky breath that my subconscious secretly held back. She sheeted her weapon and then, smiled slightly, with her posture shifting to almost normal and at ease. I just kept my guard on about, remaining slightly wary. She was not to be taken lightly, I learned that. But, like she wore a mask of casual aloofness and calm, I put on a veneer for her too.

"Welcome to the Tristram Cathedral, travellers. I'm Leah DeSoto. What is it that you seek?" she asked in a totally different kind of tone. Friendly was not the perfect choice to describe, nor was polite. It was..ah, guarded, but warm formality. Like I said, casually aloof. Not that it mattered that much, but I liked to analyse and gave explanation to things. It was a odd habit of mine.

"Greetings, Miss DeSoto." That was Remus.

"Wotcher!" Take a guess.

"The pleasure is all mine, sweetheart." Another difficult one to sort out.

Watching her reactions to the three greetings, being a terse nod to Remus' formal one, a arched eyebrow at Tonks' usual line and a scowl at Sirius' drawl. I was loft and a bit distanced previously, giving the impression of a medieval knight – at least to myself. So maybe I should continue that way, to avoid confusing the girl. I don't know what bad would come from her confusion, but my hunches were my field marshals, who I took the orders from.

"I'm honoured by the gift of your name, Lady Leah. It is only proper that I return in kind. My name is Harry... or Ryk, if that suits you better. And I seek a path, on which I can remain in your good grace."

Okay, maybe a little too much. And no! Harry, no! Don't kiss her hand. Ah, damn it!

She gathered a bit colour on her cheeks as I said my message and breathed a soft kiss onto the back of her hand. The blush was a good sign, although, probably I should refrain from these acts of overdone chivalry, judged by the lack of any further reaction. Her placid face didn't even cringed, not a beam of muscle contracted on her face. Only the eyes... Even if I couldn't read them as they were guarded closely, I noticed something. They were not guarded enough to hide the fact, something changed about her gaze. Maybe their shine... The catalyst of the shine, though, was lost to me.

"Your flattery is appreciated and duly noted, Outlander. You will get a free tank of ale in the bar, if you manage to convince me to accompany you there. In the meantime, please, tell me the purpose of your stay!"

Elegantly obliterating comeback. I'm firmly put into my place. So the grin I wore was unexpected. However I remained silent now and let my three companion do the talk for a bit. Tonks frowned at me. Sirius smirked. Remus shook his head. Typical... These guys are just so predictable...

"We seek a way back home," Remus informed her. "And I apologise for my friend's lack of manners. I'm Remus. The lady with us is Dora and the my other friend here is Sirius."

"Thank you. So a way back home, you say? Where would that be?" she asks back with fresh and light toned curiosity.

"Does the word England say something...anything to you?" Sirius tried warily.

"Afraid not," she said after a moment of consideration. It was not haste enough to be a lie, nor long enough to be a lie. We were clearly not in the UK and these folks evidently didn't know about our homeland. "Is it some exotic isle? Or a city in the far north?"

You know what's odd? She apparently didn't have a clue about England, but we were speaking in English. Plain, old, common, British English. I should be flabbergasted, but after a day like this, nothing can surprise me. Well, I hope so...

"No. It's...no."

"I gather you want to speak with my Master," Leah said without uncertainty. No surprise, again. The guards told us that many wanderer... Oh, crap! The taboo word.. then, travellers came to speak with this Master.

"Yes."

"Normally I would deny your entry into the Cathedral. But normally, you shouldn't be running around with the Shard of Azurewrath, clad in funny clothes. So, I presume my Master will be interested. Please, follow me!"

And with that, the young lady, Leah, turned and marched past the gigantic wooden wings which served as the entrance of the church and soon disappeared in the darkness inside, as if the interior of the Cathedral was another world. After today's events, it would be the most natural thing. We shared a glance. Sirius shrugged, patted Remus' back and moved in. Remus looked up to see the elaborate sculpture work of the gate, then sighed and with a brief backwards glance at me and Dora, followed my godfather. That glance wasn't a casual one, though. We both noticed, I think. But I couldn't place it. It was only a brief look and I only saw a bit sadness.

I turned towards Dora and from her frown I knew she was confused as well, having seen Remus' face herself. But then, she look back at me and smiled her angelic smile. I melted... The weakness of us men, oh shame, but that's it. She sauntered close, very close and her radiant face stopped well in a mile within my personal space. Not that I protested, mind. My upper, nimbler limbs slithered around her waist, mimicking hers and we embraced. She put her head on my chest and sighed once softly, but with heavy weight palpable in it.

"We'll need to talk, HJ. If we get a moment for ourselves..." she said in a wispy voice.

"We're alone now..." I returned in a similarly breathy tone. My thumb on my left hand found a patch of uncovered skin on her waist and wasted no time mapping its surface. She shuddered. Nice...

"Well, yes. But I...I need some time. To think."

Now, I should be slightly nervous. Was she having second thoughts?

BREAK! HALT! STOP!

About what, Mr. Harry "Horny" Potter? You shared a kiss and had an easy-going, close friendship before that. With the kiss, is it implicit that it made us a couple as if by magic? Mind the pun, or not, I don't care! I'm an idiot either way! And a hypocrite. I hate assumptions and presumption. Wasn't the thing I did in any possible relation to those? Rhetorical question. We all know the answer...

"Of course. Sorry," I said with all the neutrality and charismatic calm I could muster. And moved to release her.

She had other plans. She grabbed my arms and placed them back to where they were.

"In the meantime... I really liked that kiss, but," she paused and looked up into my eyes behind her ridiculously long lashes with her original violet eyes. "But my memory was a bit grazed by these events, I think. And it needs some reminder..."

Ooo-khay. Maybe **I **was wrong. Or maybe she is a big contradiction. She needs time to think, but wastes no time to act. Ah, should I notice something I missed? No matter. I gladly volunteered for the task at hand. Assumptions could go to Hell. Yeah, literally. I'm gonna grab onto every opportunity I may get and play it bold. I was a weed and sulked and shied away far too long enough already. I'm growing up. Time passes without mercy. It's today now. A big day in history. Because it's the beginning of the rest of my life. What better way to celebrate that to snog beautiful Dora senseless? Again, rhetorical... We all know the answer.

She tasted sweet, fruity. Peach, I guess. And I could also taste the lingering, a bit bitter flavour of her afternoon coffee. Of all my friends and acquaintances, she was the only coffee-drinker. Almost an addict. And she made me an obsessed too! Now, however, I failed to regret that decision. I loved the bittersweet taste of her. I loved it a lot! I wanted more...

"Khmm... Lovebirds! Hurry up, will ya?"

Dora released me and gazed into my eyes with misty eyes. She looked...torn. Again, the contradiction. Now, what does that supposed to mean?! This was not a rhetorical one. I truly don't know. She looked down at my lips, then back up into my eyes, then back down again. Finally, she did a small smile for me and stepped away fully, following Sirius in.

Sometimes, I disliked my godfather very much.

* * *

The group of five entered the grand nave. Its dome and ceiling was high, very high. Gothic in style, but the details spoke of a different Gothicism of a different world. The marble sculptures and beautiful murals told a very different story. There were angels, but no God, no Saints, no Apostles. The angels were proud and warrior-like, clad in heavy battle armour, wielding swords and shields or spears. Exactly the same as Izual looked like. There were mortal heroes pictured and their legendary feats. And there were demons and their preys. Horned and ugly, small and large, grotesque and horrific, in all colours of the spectrum, black and crimson being dominant.

This was not a holy sanctum erected to praise a deity. This was a memorial shrine, built to preserve and tell the history of old times, paths of heroes, evil deeds of demons. This place was not pure. Not in the least. It held a tense atmosphere, holy and unholy at the same time. Angelic and demonic as well. It awed you, soothed you and rendered you mute in submission for something higher and greater. But whenever you averted your eyes, something out of place, something opposite of all of this caught your attention, making you shudder, tense up, alert your instincts and putting you on edge.

Honestly, this place gave me the creeps...

"This Cathedral was built by an ancient order, the Horadrim, as a reliquary, a tribute to the victory Light won over Dark. It is said, that the Cathedral was a fortress for the Horadrim and was built above a labyrinth of catacombs, where – the legend said – they hid the very essence of Evil itself. The Evil that come to our world and wrought havoc. The Evil, Light defeated. They buried it here. Out of sight, deep in the bowels of earth, under rock and soil, secure and meant to be forgotten," yarned Leah.

We all listened silently and she spoke barely above a whisper. Something in these stones in the walls made you utterly tiny, subjected, weak, unimportant and replaceable. And you didn't want to call the attention of the eternal gaze of the imperious statues of angels and demons to yourself by talking loudly. Who knows? Maybe they'd sprung to life and decapitate you in a whim.

Creepy. And Leah wasn't helping with her spooky commentary.

"My Master said, he saw that buried evil seep its vile influence into the very walls of its prison, the earth and stone itself," she continued the story. "And after decades, it finally resurfaced and brought chaos onto Old Tristram. He saw with his very eyes of what the will of Darkness was capable of. The king's son died, the king himself lost his sanity. And his sorcerer succumbed to the evil presence. He unleashed this Dark Essence beneath, and Diablo himself was incarnated. Light was not inactive either and sent three heroes to battle the legions of hell. The Three submerged into the Darkness. Only one returned, but he returned victorious. Master was a wise and perceptive man even back then, and he saw, that alas, Diablo corrupted his soul with his demonic influence. But it was too late..." she trailed off. And didn't speak again.

Really nice of her, leaving us in the suspense like that. It was too late, and? What's next? Did we reached present time in the story and the possessed hero is about to take over the world?

But soon, the reason of her discontinuation became apparent. We reached a large ornate door, leading to one of the aisles. She stopped before the door and turned to face us.

"I have to ask you to hand over your weapons," she said. Again, no nonsense. It was very weird coming from a girl as old as I. Wait... that would mean I can't be firm. But that's not true. I can be! Really...

"Why now? If it is a trust issue, we could have attacked you on the way here," Sirius reasoned and made a point. It was one of his better moments, it seemed. Okay, I'm just tease him, I know he is an able fighter and quick witted in general. But also a Marauder, so he **has** to be teased.

"Who said I wasn't vigilant and prepared for an assault on the way here? Yes, you could attack, while I lulled you with history lessons. But your success... now that could be in question. Trust is earned with time and measured by actions. Your inaction through our walk here from the main gates earned you a little trust. But this is not a matter of it or suspicion or camaraderie or friendship. This is **rule. **Hand over your weapons!"

Hell, she is way better than McGonagall, and a helluva lot prettier! I like her. No offense, McGee...

We could not do anything else, but to surrender our wands. We needed to speak with this assumed intellectual leader of sorts, we needed help and all these were inside this door. So no other options.

I drew my wand with a flourish and held it up for her on my palm, wearing a solemn expression. She disappointed me a little with her lack of reaction, but considering the length of our acquaintance and that she probably knew very well that I was acting merely, it wasn't that surprising. Remus and Sirius also forfeited their wands and so did Dora, but I noticed with astonishment that she presented two wands as well as a small, straight bladed dagger from a concealed sheath on her inner thigh.

I cocked an eyebrow at her and she grinned in reply, topping it with a cute wink. I couldn't help grinning back. As far as I knew, it was not standard Auror equipment, the twin wands. The tanto certainly wasn't. But after that spectacular patronus-dome-thing back in Hell, I – again – wasn't as surprised as I should be. She was so much more that what met the eye. Clumsy, pink, rebelling angel – my ass! Deadly, graceful, well...pink, arch-angel more like. Either way, she does things to my hormonal system with her mere presence. Nice, very nice... But can be distracting in certain situations.

Our guide nodded decisively – her adorable dark-honey tinted bangs in her forehead swaying slightly, momentarily hiding her eyes, but when they were revealed again, the sunshine kissed their surface and glinted in their mirrors, like two sparkling stars... Okay, HJ! It time for your **real **brain to take control. Me and women, oh my! Sexual awakening is a wondrous thing and the feelings and sensation you may experience during some experiments are probably the meaning of life. But hence that point, you start to make decisions that shows logic the middle finger, if you know what I mean. As a kid, I considered myself smart – not compared to Mione, she's a genius -, but now, as a lad, I act like a prat sometimes. And the thoughts that enter my mind... NOW! Back to present time.

So... She nodded and gave us a final piercing, searching gaze, before turning and pushing the door open. She motioned us to precede her, so we went in with her in tow and found ourselves standing in a very similar, but slightly smaller version of the grand nave.

The most prominent divergence was the lack of the shrine in the front. Instead, it looked like a mix of a small library and a study. Tall bookshelves margined the wall of the half circle of the place where the altar should have been. Two heavy wooden tables stood parallel with one other in the middle and were groaning under the load of tomes, scrolls, parchments and trinkets that tried to crumble them allied with gravity. The two brass basins that protruded from the two pillars on either side of the shrine sacrificed their oil to nurse the flickering fires in them. It provided a warm orange glow to the frontal area. But cast shadows on the tables. To negate this effect, there were several candles there. On the tables seeping wax rivers, and on standing candlesticks, which resembled stalactites now. Their vane flames gave the sufficient light for reading to be possible there. It contrasted with the only natural light source, the beams of sunlight that crawled into the hall through the large painted windows. Curious it was, that those large windows permitted so little light through them. Only a few beams of dirty whitish-grey light in which particles of dust waltzed. It was eerie, though the air gave a feeling of tranquillity and timelessness, air that breathed wisdom, vibrated with knowledge and was heavy with memories. There was a shady figure bent over various tomes and scrolls, and was muttering under its breath, seemingly oblivious of the outside world.

The hushed ambient noises - the murmur of the scholar, the crackling of fire, the scratching battle of quill against parchment and the rhythmic dripping of water-drops hitting stone somewhere – were all muted and overpowered by a loud, dull thud as the door was closed behind us.

We were all a bit startled and turned around to see Leah walking from the door to a chest on a dais on one side, into which she deposited our wands and Dora's tanto.

We were startled even more when we turned back coming up face to...face-silhouette with the scholar. The very same one who sat not a moment ago in his chair, leaning above his studies, in the other end of the room, which was a good thirty feet away from here. Talk about creepy, I almost soiled my flower patterned lucky boxers – a gift from Fleur - in fright at his abrupt apparition. He was only a feet before us partially concealed by the shadows.

It could only be magic. Why, how on earth could he have appeared out of blue in front of us in a blink of an eye, all of this soundlessly? Leah did decide we looked like spell-casters, so these people must know about magic. And, apparently, know a few tricks too...

He wore exactly the kind of clothes one would expect to see on a scholar. Light, but enduring textile stola with coarse trims. It had several pockets and flinging-flailing clasps into which a few smaller tomes and scrolls were attached. A moving library... I would be able to relate this bit to Hermione safely, because being the Devourer of Books, she also possessed a keen sense of beauty and fashion – she's my unofficial stylist – as well as dignity, so she wouldn't even consider wearing books as clothes. I hope...

His feet was in a simple clam. A part of his long, greyish-white beard was also visible, but it seemed that he was almost bold, judged by the faint reflection of candlelight on what could only be the top of his head. He gripped a gnarled staff in his right hand with long, wizened fingers. There was also a silvery ring on his index. It showed an elaborate, but foreign symbol which I couldn't quite place. Big surprise there... What was more curious was the bright lustre what his eyes were ablaze with. I could feel the inner fire, the dormant power contained within them. And it poured, radiated out of him, through his eyes and it laced his weighty gaze.

It was one of those 'instant respect' scenarios. And frankly, I was quite efficiently intimidated by this eerie man. And the only thing he did was appearing before us and standing there for like a quarter of a minute. Yes, I made these observations in fifteen seconds. I know, I know... don't say it. Well, practice makes the perfect!

Then, he spoke in a rich baritone, the timbre of which, though was jaded by the corrosive teeth of time.

"Greetings, travellers. I say you either are something unique or carry something unique or else you would have been denied entry. I have much confidence in Leah's judgement, she wouldn't have let you pass the gates unless you are found worthy. But I am a curious old man, so indulge me in the business that brought you here!"

An image of another barmy old codger I'm acquainted with popped into my mind. The resemblance was of a wondrous proportion. It seemed, every world gotta have its own Dumbledore...

We shared chained glances of silent communication between each other and I was mildly surprised at the efficiency of it, because at the end, Remus was selected as the spokesman for our cause. Reasonable, as he looked like the senior of our group with his grey streaks and worn, scarred face. Even if he was actually younger that Sirius by three months.

And our cause was simple. We needed to go back home. Our Universe, Milky Way, Earth, Europe, UK, England, London, Ministry, DoM, Death Room, Veil... Fuck! What of the battle there? How did the others coped? Who won? Who died, if anyone died at all? The prophecy? Or time there just stopped? Did that dimension just ceased to exist as we exited it? Or did it, but only for us? Do I want to go back at all? Do I want all that shit to fall onto my shoulders again? The answer to that last two is a bit reluctant yes. I have friends there. And a part of my life is there. Though, most of it came with me. My 'A-few-more-months-and-I'll-call-you-Dad' godfather, Uncle 'There's-always-an-explanation' Remus and Dora 'I'm-all-yours-Harry' Tonks... Uh, I really thought that? Ah, well, a man could have dreams...

"We seek help and guidance for us to find a way back to our home."

"It is a fine and noble cause, however it doesn't prove your uniqueness. And I'm afraid, I'm not rumoured to be the best tour guide. What is it that may required my involvement in your quest?"

We consulted again with glances. Sirius shrugged indifferently, Dora raised an eyebrow and folded her arms and I nodded faintly my consent.

"Our uniqueness lays in the fact that we are not from this world," Remus said and we all waited for reaction or verdict.

The old man's eyes flared up for a moment, but just for a moment. Then the twin spots of brilliance which were his eyes disappeared, leading us to believe that he closed them. Some time passed in suspense, then the sparkling orbs reappeared and flashed behind us to where, I noticed as I turned, Leah stood, leaning against a stone pillar with her trademark stoic façade, what I knew she only wore for us, plastered on her face. She did look curious, though.

"Unique, indeed," the old man conceded. "This certainly makes the while quest much more interesting." His eyes moved to look at Leah once again. And my haunches told me that they held recognition and withheld knowledge. This was yet another similarity between the two old man, this and our Albus. But where Albus' eyes twinkled, his **blazed. **

And then, the old man stepped forward and into the beam of light, thus revealed himself fully. His face was wizened with wise wrinkles of worry - Wow, did you catch that? He was indeed, bold, with only patches of snowy-white hair on the sides. And his eyes were still blazing, disregarding the increased visibility of his face. His expression, however, was very different from Dumbledore's. Albus usually smiled and the lines around his mouth gave evidence of this. The old man was solemn and tired, but also very vigilant. It was in his eyes. The way his silvery-azures looked at us. But the fact that his pupils were nonexistent, put me again on edge.

"My name is Deckard Cain. The last of the Horadrim. Although I hope not for too long... I trust you have met my apprentice, Leah," he said.

"Yes, we have. Pleasure to meet you too, Master Cain," Remus said and I commended him for the Master bit. Remus was very polite and always 'Mister'd' everyone. In this case, I think it could have been considered an insult, or at least impolite. I'm glad he remembered his status. "The lady next to me is Nymphadora Tonks..." Cain nodded her way in acknowledgement, also, he allowed a smile. It subtracted few decades from his age.

"Tonks, names Tonks...ah, please?" Dora interjected with a sideways glare at Remus. Master Cain chuckled, as if he has known the joke well. Tonks, names Tonks... That was a line I hear all too many times. That's where she got her infamous nickname – which only a very brave and foolish few would dare to use -, TNT. When I first called her that, for a week, various crackers, fireworks or other light explosives tended to 'pop' around me everywhere, giving me a constant sense of fright and alert. She could be vindictive...

"The young man beside her is Harry Potter..." Remus continued. I looked into his eyes deeply and bowed my head. Master Cain reciprocated the gesture and he, unlike the guards, didn't commented on my name. Joy! Come to think of it, neither did Leah...

"The man on my right is Sirius Black..."

Cain inclined his head to him too, but once he straightened and looked at him, he arched one bushy brow and asked "Serious?"

Remus grinned like a madman, Dora snickered behind her hand and I couldn't help the snort that came out of my throat before I could suppress the laughter. Joy, at least not only my name is ridiculed. Sirius only rolled his eyes and muttered something under his breath.

"Yes, yes... Si-ri-us. Sorry. And finally, I am Remus Lupin." They exchanged mild greetings too, then Master Cain spoke again.

"I reckon you came to the right person after all and I think I'll help you, if not else, just for the adventure's sake. However humour me and convince this old man why should he help."

Ah, there you go! The price. But of course he'd name a price. Four strangers knock on the door of his peaceful domain and ask him – without any mutual history behind each other or any acquaintance – that he help them. There are very few who are that selfless to help for free. And this old man obviously didn't reach his high position, fame and reputation with overly generous acts of self-sacrifice.

When I finished my diagnosis, I found Remus' eyes along with the flock of everyone else's, locked on me. I **barely** noticed the meaning behind it.

"Oh! Maybe you'd be interested in what I found laying in the dust during the way here," I said casually. Though I think they were aware of its forced undertone. I felt oddly reluctant to reveal the Shard. Although I knew it was very important to Cain and these people, somehow, I didn't really want to part with it. It was **my** gift. Squelching the resistance, I pulled out the Shard from under my shirt.

Cain gasped and the glowing orbs grew in diameter as his eyes widened. "Azurewrath?" he whispered. Them the large, shiny saucers shifted and became narrow wedges of suspicion. "How did you come to possess it?"

Again. This Izual fellow surely did nicely to earn this dashing good renown.

"I received it from the Archangel Izual as a gift for freeing him from his demonic shell," I recited dully.

"You liberated Izual?" he asked in astonishment. Then he switched into shock. "As a gift, you said?" I nodded cautiously. His urgent, disbelieving tone unnerved me. People address me like this, and then, Hell raises to Earth. Or someone is to die. Not too idyllic options, but it tended to happen to me. "Do you realize what this means?"

"I will any minute now. The revelation will coincide precisely with your explanation on it. It will be a small miracle of cosmical mayhap..." I said with sarcasm that I couldn't fathom why I used. It had to be the funny 'The Shard was MY gift' feeling. When nobody elaborated, I looked at Cain expectantly. "Well? How in the name of Goodness could I know? I don't even know what exactly it is or what its significance is. Hell, I don't even know where I am!"

I was getting irritated and impatient. Not good. Cain looked not a bit offended, fazed or even affected at all by my small lash out. Good. I have high faith in his close relation to Albus. I have a feeling I would need such a mentor soon. And one thing I learned very well from Remus and more importantly, from Albus himself, that it'd do you only good to listen to your intuitions and instincts.

"The Shard of Azurewrath is just that. A shard of a whole. Azurewrath was a legendary sword. Wielded by Izual himself in the attack-attempt on Hellforge. It was wrought from unearthly matter, forged by the Angels. It was said that the sword had a mind of its own. Had a personality and will. Ah, fear not young man," he said as he very vigilantly noticed my wince at the intelligent, thinking object prospect. Tom's diary was something not easily forgotten. "As it was hammered by the Light, it is not tainted by any evil or dark intention. At least the whole sword wasn't... Can I – may I touch it?" he inquired from me with a held up hand. I nodded hesitantly.

I held out the shard for him, but I didn't take it off from my neck. He slowly pushed his finger closer to the torrent and traced it lightly along its length. I felt it hum and pulse. I heard it whisper. And suddenly, Cain withdrew his hand, shaking it slightly, while chuckling.

"Yes, you can relax. It was not tainted by evil. It is as immaculate as it ever was or will be. And it also seems, that it is quite fond of you and wary of alien interferences. Like my touch. It told me fair and square to, ah... 'Back off!' Amusing!" he said, still chuckling.

Okay. Albus is here, reborn in this lunatic old bird. I can relax. However...

His expression changed from amusement to grim seriousness so fast, that it startled me.

"As of the significance. The sword is effectively the single most potent weapon against any kinds of evil ever created. It is a priceless artefact and key item for the Light. It has chosen you as its master. Only you can command it now, and if it ever to be reforged, you'd be the only one who can wield it. Until you die and it chooses another master, that is," Cain explained.

Fan-flippin'-tastic! It's me again. Holy shit, soon I'd have to keep a checklist of my traits and titles. BWL, Chosen One, Saviour of Izual, Wielder of Azurewrath... Oh, and Leah calls me Outlander. Nice.

But I don't mind. Not anymore. I see my old naïve self throwing a temper tantrum over this issue, but that's the past. Sirius made me see the light. I always wanted to be normal. He told me, that it'd both idiotic and impossible. Impossible, because I was meant to be something else, something more. Special. And idiotic, because who in the sane mind would want to be one of the crowd. An average. Not an individual, just one article off from the production line with a serial number on their forehead. Sirius made me realize that hiding behind society would like destroy me just like Ol' Tom would if he could. It's a simple analogy, really. If I force myself to be normal, my soul is lost, with my soul lost, I would be a quite great looser, my intent locked in a chest in the attic, my willpower trying to commit suicide, thus rendering my magic as dangerous as Jet, Ginny's twelve months old kitten. So my preparation for my showdown with Tom will very much likely end with my demise. But, the other end can also lead to this. Anyway, he made me see, that my want to blend in would only undo me. **Me**, the Harry. The individual. The special. He understood my disgust at my fame – which derives from the murder of my parents. Honestly, who wouldn't be disgusted by a title people gave you, which remind you of your 'orphanization' every time its mention or written down. Sirius understood, but told me to live it out, step over this title. Make my own actions known, make my own fame with feats I have done. Be an individual, be special and life will be better.

It is.

Thanks, Padfoot...Dad...

Hmm. I think no, it's not the time yet. Though there will be. Three years living with him, however awesome, could not compare to the thirteen without him, without a father/brother/friend/confident/Marauder. Without love and home. Ah...away sour thoughts, before any tear are shed.

Back to the topic. So I get to have a flashy sword once it's reforged. Till then, I have to cope with the Shard, who has a personality and will and thoughts and ideas and all that cool shit stuffed into a brain that doesn't exist. And its dangling from around my neck... Forgive me if I'm still a bit wary. However, I'm still in the dark, because Cain still didn't explained why do I feel like I have to save this world too, not just my own.

"Am I right to suspect that this, the Shard choosing me, oblige me to do something? Some task? Quest?" I guessed and again, held a breath.

"You might be quite right. But I am uncertain. Azurewrath was meant to be wielded by an Archangel, not a mortal human. You are the first mortal to possess it. Its torrent at the least. You are a pioneer, and what lays ahead of you will only be revealed along the road."

"Riddles... I **dislike** riddles..." I grunted irritably. "Could you speak in straightforward, no nonsense words?" I asked and for a moment glanced at Leah in hope. She would tell the nub in my face, clear. But the answer this time had to come from Cain. So I asked from him. "Do I have to do something or can I be happy with my little shiny shard and go on about my business?"

"You can gift the shard to another one. You have to intent it as a true, selfless, meaningful gift. Then the Shard may part with you and bind itself to your gifted," he said thoughtfully and his burning eyes flickered to Dora at the word 'gifted'. Oh, man! Every mildly well-read, intelligent and knowledgeable person should know that the name Dora is derived from the Greek word doron, which means 'gift'. Well, uh, okay. So maybe not every mildly smart people... Maybe it has something to do with my name obsession.

"Ah, and what responsibility comes with me possessing the Shard? Please, tell me! The truth. The whole of it." I started to grow tired of this beat around the bush business, one that Albus loved to play, and I tend to believe only to irk me. Old wanker... I said it fondly, in case you were wondering. I love the man. Most of the times...

Cain looked at me with a razor sharp gaze, and I felt as if my mind bled out honesty and determination. And a little hope that it would mean no more fuss to me. And I felt like he saw these too. It wasn't like legilimency, I'm not sure at all that he knew what legilimency was, but he read me nevertheless. He read, he understood and finally, nodded.

"Darkness is beginning to dim the Light again. Evil is stirring. Something calls it. Something will happen. And happen it will soon. Too soon. And I fear this happening will be yet the greatest challenge this era faced. Those still living in the Light will need every hope they can get. Azurewrath in the hand of an able warrior is such a hope. And as the Light side is veining and dimming, we will desperately need the power of an artefact like Azurewrath... And since you are its master... But as I told you, you can pass it to another as a gift..."

"So... Summary. All too soon, Hell will break loose. Good guy are scarce, heroes are needed. And hope. Hope is well manifested in Azurewrath, which is mine at the moment. So logically, you need me. But I can decline the job by passing the Shard to someone else. Right?"

"Yes," Cain nodded. And looked at me again with that soul-searching gaze. "You are carrying a heavy burden on your shoulders already. You destiny which ties you to your world, but not this. Here you have a choice."

Leah came around and stood next to Cain with a solemn face. He addressed his Master.

"If you would allow me, Master, I would gladly take responsibility and carry the Shard until it can be remade, so I can wield it," she said with determination. I had a sudden surge of respect for the girl. She was more than ready and able to test her skills. Brave and eager. But I also could see that she has yet to experience the horrors of a real battle of real fight. Real pain and real struggle to stay alive. She was taught well and she was visibly confident in her abilities, but she lacked the real experience. She haven't yet met real evil. This was something, that apparently Cain noticed as well, for he said...

"I commend you for your willingness to volunteer. But you are not ready for this. Yet."

"But... And he is?" she demanded angrily, pointing at me. I should have felt insulted and indignant, but I merely smiled and felt assured that I guess right previously. She was inexperienced. Was I? And she was only trying to argue, besides she didn't know me. So why to take offense?

"He might," Cain conceded, looking at me. "But I don't want to burden you further. You surely want to return to your home and tend to your own problems and leave ours to us. Will you pass the gift of the Shard onto me?"

The concern and the offer was touching and honourable. However, when he uttered the words that I would pass it to him, something inside me protested with unnerving intensity. **I** saved Izual's spirit, for which he offered his eternal thank with a gift to **me**. The Shard was **my **gift. **My **possession. **I **was his master.

"**NO!**"

Wow, I start to sound like Gollum from the Lord of the Rings... But I don't want to pass it along. If it means I take another heavy, suffocating harness around my neck, than so be it. Besides, I was said by many that I have this saving people thing. Hero complex it is called scientifically. And I admit I have it. I can't stand to let people down in the face of danger. Now, added to this psychic defect – or trait, matter of perspective – I have the luring presence of an intelligent relic of angels. It wants me, I want it. They want it, so they want me. It wants to help, for I want to help. And that is what they want.

Now that was some Hermionean logic...

"No. I won't gave it up. I take the job with it." There. I said it. Ultimate. Final.

"What?" That was Leah. Incredulous.

"Harry!" That was Remus and Dora. Shocked.

"HJ...we have to get back. What of the others?" That was, surprisingly and consequentially, Sirius. Serious. No pun this time. He was dead serious. And he was right.

Of course there was the others. My world, the Wizarding World. Ginny, Hermione, Ron, the Weasleys. Fleur, Katie...Cho. Dumbledore, the Order. Hagrid, McGee, Hogwarts. Hedwig, Dobby, Firenze, Crookshanks, Jet. I even missed Draco. He's fun and not that badass. But don't tell Ron this, though. And of course there was Old Uncle Voldishorts.

But there was also a plan forming in my mind at the moment. A good plan, that could work. Must work. Or else, I'm a bloody fool and all that is lost. Because of me. Not freakin likely!

"I know. And I want to save them as much as you or anyone else. And I have a plan on that," I said thoughtfully. Then turned to Cain, who was silently watching me. Like he knew what I was thinking. Probably he did. "Which brings in this proposition, Master Cain. I help you with whatever you need my help for. In return, you find a way to return us home – if there's a way home at all!" I said this to the others, because it was an option that we got struck here for good. "Plus, I can take Azurewrath with me to use it to destroy the Evil that brought chaos into my world."

"So, you you will help us. In return you ask for Azurewrath and my help to return you home?" summarized Cain, looking straight at me while he tapped his chin in thought. And he tapped and tapped and hummed and tapped on.

"Well?" I asked with arched eyebrows indicating my ever fading patience. Paddy, Moony and TNT...ah, Dora, remained silent as they contemplated on what I proposed.

"You will help us prepare and gather troops and if the need demands you will wield the blade in battle. Acceptable?" Cain said, defining the term.

"If you teach me how to, than yes."

"Very well. I'll teach you sword-fighting. You'll help me find some people, heroes of the old battle, who know what we are about to face again. If it turns to that, you'll aid them in battle, with Azurewrath, which we'll see to be reforged. Meanwhile, I'll research my library and the archives of the Horadrim and do my best to find a way to place you back into your world. And if we prevail and all is well, and if I managed to find a way, you may return home with our eternal thanks and with Azurewrath still in your possession."

"Agreed," I told him after a little consideration. Not much to consider, though. It seemed my job. Train to gain a new skill, seek out and fetch the local version of the Order of the Phoenix, then fight the bad guys with my new flashy skills. That's another matter, that once I return home, I have to do this all over again. That is, if there will be anything to fight for, yet.

"So mote it be!" he intoned and held out his arm in a right angle, his hand pointing up. I grasped it in a cool 'american black bro gangsta' way and thus made our pact final.

There wasn't any bright flare of light of ancient, all-powerful magic bidding our life-forces to the vow... It wasn't a vow or oath to start with. This was an agreement, a pact. And it was based on both parties reliability and willingness. If it had been disagreeable on either side, we wouldn't have agreed naturally. There's the magic. Which is not real magic at all. But a real simple human thing. If you don't like it, you don't do it. If you come to terms, you agree, and carry on with it. The trick is, you can broke the pact anytime you want, nothing restrains you. But then, the other party will hunt you down and murder you in creative and exotic ways to make you realize that you were a bad, bad boy and it was a nasty thing to fuck with the him.

I'm a good boy. With good intentions. Which I carry out in a bad boyish way. Harmony and balance. Not black, not white.

Leah looked at me with a hurt expression. Looking finally the age she really was. I smiled in an 'Oh, I'm sorry. I hope you'll see that it was for your own good and perhaps you'll thank me later for it' way that too I learned from Albus. She scowled at that. I pouted in return, to which she turned quite angry. I could just wink at her seeing that. She probably misunderstood the meaning, because in a huff, she turned, stormed off and buried herself into a tome in the study area. Cain just smiled at me in a 'she'll forgive' way to which I responded with a 'we shall see, but I hope' look. Metacommunication was a wondrous thing...

"Now, Master Cain. My friend, Remus was injured when we battled the demon Izual. I'd appreciate if his wound were minded. Then, we can discuss the details of our tasks. My quest to find your friends and yours to find our home."

"Very well. Please, follow me! I'll take you to a healer," he said and lead the way.

And without any further ado, we followed. Putting the revamping, rethinking, musing and contemplating aside to deal with the most urgent matters at hand. Currently, Remus' – and to think of it, most of our – injuries.

Then, further talking, planning, musing and further such **exciting** activities awaited us.

Joy.

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A/N: There you go! You have to wait a little bit more for the third instalment, because I've got the these first two done already and all I did before posting was rechecking the spelling. (Should be good to go, but as I'm still a Hungarian guy, grammatical errors may occur) My thanks for the reading to everyone, who reached this point! R&R!

Anders1 – Straight to the point. Concise. Thanks! ^^

Darksnider05 – It seems I got your attention with this Honks start. I have an idea where this is supposed to go – concerning ships -, but I can be convinced with fine negotiation or plausible and executable threats on my life... :I These first few chapters are like a prologue. Then, the character selection shall come! Four characters and the seven classes to choose form... and a few surprises and extras... Thanks for the review!

Mosherguy18 – Harry's past mishaps and adventures – the important ones plot-wise at least – will be revealed. So the fling with Fleur as well. Though I won't go into wet details, I pass that to your imagination :D

Isebas – Can you tell me the name of that story you mentioned? The HP/Diablo cross with HP/FD pairing. I'm drooling for HP/Diablo crosses with yummy ships! ^^ Thanks for your lines!

Till next time, fellas!

PSB


	3. Contradictions

**Harry Potter and the Great Conflict**

_« Written by PSBlasius »_

Disclaimer: Copyright © JKRowling and © Blizzard Entertainment. If I were the owner of Harry Potter™ and Diablo™, then I would not write here for no profit.

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Chapter Three – Contradictions

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This way! Must be this way!

I was running as if I'd had a Hellhound chasing me. If not Hellhounds, even so, these creatures could have easily come from Hell. But they were slow and I passed them long ago. I tore through obstacles without pause. Magic was my body. It filled my molecules until they nearly overflowed with their eager force, begging to be unleashed.

That I did. I used it to clear my path before myself. It was unreasonable, I was aware. No reason to run amok at this bitchin maze for a flippin ornament. Certainly not to earn my effing glory. As if I really need that added to my Wall of Fame back in my room. No, I don't have any such thing, if you wondered. Colin, however, has. Ginny told me. And the little wench laughed at me!

My fear mingled with my fury and resulted in my current frenzied movements. She screamed. I heard it. The others were nowhere in sight, but I also heard male voices uttering... interesting choices of curses for an inter-school competition. Something was not right. Blasting curse, bone-shattering curse, one spell that turned the water in your body into wine... Apparently some bloke around the point from where we count time used this trick. But luckily not on a living human. And there were other ones as well I didn't recognize, but I had a feeling they weren't any less lethal. I increased my pace, but...

I jerked into a swift halt as I reached a clearing. It was scrambled with tombstones. It was a graveyard. But in the centre, there stood a huge arc with a lightly swaying veil. But it was not the veil what caught my attention. She stood there in that light blue, revoltingly sexy nightgown and smiled lustfully at me. She took a step back, slid half behind the curtain, showed a long, slender and flawlessly soft and ivory leg, while she beckoned me to follow her. Then disappeared behind the curtain fully.

"FLEUR!" I bellowed and without consideration, I jumped after her.

Only to find Voldemort waiting for me on the other side. Between him and I stood a large cauldron. Behind him towered an eerie, imperious and quite frightening statue. Of the Angel of Death. Captivated by the statue's large scythe were the bound form of Fleur and... me. How... odd.

There was some speech coming from Voldemort's throat, but I couldn't hear. I stood rooted, staring, unable, paralysed. Then, Voldemort crawled into the cauldron and submerged into its contents. This was getting even weirder.

Sizzling. Gurgling. Roaring. Sparks. Flashing lights. Smoke billowing upwards.

And in place of the cauldron, the demonic Izual has come to be. And he was holding Fleur in his clawed grip.

Flash. Scream. Clash of metal. Roar. Laughing. Scream. Flash.

I was standing above the body of my enemy. The corpse of my prey. I slaughtered him. My foot kicked out, rolling the body on its back, so its face was revealed.

It was my own lifeless face...

I assure you, this was not an edited Star Wars scene, where Luke confronted his fears. I just killed myself. Myself? Something made me wonder, while Fleur came to me, stepping into my waiting arms. Arms, that were thin, longish and cold, pale, almost white and scaly. They were my arms, but they weren't. And Fleur didn't seem to be bothered by them, but she cried. She came to me and I held her close, pressing her lithe body hard against my own reptilian one. She arched her back, pushing her breasts against me, grinding slightly. My slits closed in content. But I saw her face and she did cried. She cried bloody tears...

"My hero..." I heard the low, sensual whisper, the effect of which was rudely cut in half by the sob, which tore itself from her chest. Tears of blood flowed from her eyes. I enjoyed the sight... I liked it...

I opened my eyes and Dora smiled seductively at me. Her mouth was mere inches away. My lips curled into a bestial smile and my tongue dashed out, its forked end slithering around her lips. This was accompanied by my hissing promises of high pleasure and pain. Painful pleasuring and sweet torture.

Dora closed her eyes and moaned, but then, winked at me and she started to shift... into Leah.

I stared at her. She stared at me with hard gaze. She smirked. I blinked. There was movement. She smirked still. I blinked twice. My abdomen hurt. She smirked still. I paled. She winked. There was a jerk. I screamed. She stepped back. I looked down. Blood gushed out of me like a waterfall. Ripped out bowels swayed in the gentle breeze. I staggered on my feet. Life seeped out of my torn out stomach. Harry Potter stood before me, with a shiny azure blade.

I killed myself...

Again.

Out of revenge...

* * *

I woke in a blink. Nothing dramatic. My eyes just opened, blinked, and after the standard ten seconds of disoriented looking around, thinking 'where the hell I am?', I drew the conclusion that I was awake. My breathing was steady, if a little rapid, but deep. Cold sweat layered my body. Darkness was my sheet.

Now that was some pretty fucked up dream...

I didn't scream or trash like I should have, I was much too used to nightmares to do that dramatic play. Anyway, this was slightly new, but with real base. Cedric never made it to the Cup, which was true, he stunned the bewitched Victor – after all, a puppet could never be that fast and witty as a living, thinking wizard. But he was injured so that he had to forfeit the race. Then, the bit with Fleur. I have to say, I like those dreams much better, when we end up shagging on top of the dais, with the Cup discarded and forgotten – like we almost... **almost** did in truth -, instead of the one like this, when she dies somehow, or kills me or some more exotic variants of these, whatever. Ah, now you can see how my brain resembles scrambled eggs more, than that vital, solid, twisty and most precise organ that should control my fucked up imagination.

I sat up on my cot. It was small and so hard, that it was almost comfortable. Why? In case you haven't figured it out yet, I'm abnormal. An anomaly, created by the Fates' twisted sense of humour. Flippin hilarious let me tell you... It was comfortable, because it reminded me of the first eleven years of my life. The cupboard. While it was eleven damned years in hell, the cupboard was my domain. The only space and the cot the only thing in my life, which was my sole possession. My dear relatives didn't touch it out of fear that they might catch some ailment from the taint my freakishness left on the spot. They weren't that far off from the right track. The place was tainted. By my own sweat from nightmares, my own blood from the wounds I got from Vernon's 'teachings', my own urine and soil from the times they locked me inside for days... My own tears of misery and lost hope... But that taint was also a sort of mark. Just like the dogs mark their territory with their piss, I marked mine. I know, disturbing and very disgusting. But that is over now. It's the past. I'm with Sirius, and while not in luxury, its more than I could ever have hoped for.

So the cot in the tent, in which we slept, gave me a comforting sensation. It was just as bad as my cot in the cupboard. And that, in a way, gave me a solid ground to stand on – lay on, actually. Something familiar which I could hold onto. Familiarity in a completely unfamiliar world.

I sighed and groped around for some clothes to put on. I slept in my boxers. Always did. Even when I came to live with another man, who did not ignored me as the Dursleys did. Of course, maybe it was due to my shed down shyness I adopted throughout the years. It served no purpose at all. And I was a little bit too old for the prettier sex to call me cute, for I would be blushing like the skin of the grill-chicken in the oven, and in their eyes, a blushing boy who find them pretty, was cute. A very degrading adjective for a proud teenager aiming to be cool. Not cute.

Our current accommodation was a large tent, separated into two sections with a wide draught-screen. Discerned by gender, Dora owned one; we guys were wedged into the other. Remus was out like the candle, breathing like a metronome, his bandaged chest and arm on top of it raising and falling in a timed rhythm. I swear, this guy was precise even while unconscious. Sirius was not my concern. Not even now, when he was sprawled on top of the sheets totally naked. We lived in the same flat for three years now, as I told you. I saw him, he saw me, end of story. Gods, the situations we found each other sometimes! Of course, it may come from the fact that such thing as knocking was missing from our dictionary. And when you encounter a door locked with a charm, what do you do? Precisely! You unlock it with an _Alohomora_! If a bit embarrassing sometimes, I admit it was fun! Okay, I grabbed my T-shirt and crawled into it, backside front. Hey, it was dark, I was elsewhere in mind, and it was pretty much a rule. Waking up from a nightmare in the dead of the night, you **must** put your shirt on backside front! I found my pants too and after a few minutes of searching I also found my worn pack in one pocket. It was half full! Joy. My lighter strayed away somewhere, but no matter, there was a torch outside.

I made my way out of the tent, careful not to wake the others – in others, I mean only Tonks, as the boys were deep sleepers - and I stopped in front of the tent. It was fairly dark. The stars and the moon were shrouded by the clouds. The torch I remembered, was out, the lights of the Cathedral in the distance were barely visible. But it was quite warm out here. Despite the nowadays usual grey clouds and frequent rains, the temperature stayed warm. Anyway, in all honesty, I couldn't see a damn thing past an arm's reach.

I grunted an annoyed sound, glaring at the barely smouldering torch before me. My wand was inside, I totally forgot it. Then again, I was supposedly me. Harry James Potter. Wizard. The Boy Who Lived. Paragon of Gryffindor. Youngest Seeker in the century. TriWizard Champion. Ex-lover of a Veela. The sexiest wizard, voted by the Witch Weekly subscribers. DADA prodigy. The Chosen One. Saviour of the Archangel Izual. Wielder of the Shard of Azurewrath. Oh, hell... My tongue goes numb saying all these 'titles'... I wonder how I should sign an official legal document... But the meaning of all these things at the moment was:

There's **no way** I won't light my cigarette!

I took to smoking just after my fallout with Katie. Damn it all, it hurt me! It hurt me deep. Fleur announced right off that ours will be a fling. Just causal, so her goodbye after our last round wasn't that shocking. But our rupture with Katie, out of blue and with seemingly no particular reason behind it at all, hit me unlike even Muhammed Ali could have. 'Everything is more important to you than me! I want more attention and someone more mature than you! Sorry, Harry, but we're done. Have a nice day!' was what she said. More attention? I worshipped her goddess-like body every single time we met. Which was like at least three times a week. More attention? I treated her like a lady, accompanied her everywhere she wanted, was affable and gallant. It's not my fault that a Dark Lord has some twisted infatuation with me and because of that, I need to train like a madman to be able to **stay alive **and live enough to celebrate my coming of age! Sorry! I was busy, okay, but I gave her **all **my free time! More mature? A concept a bit far from Gred and Forge, with whom she usually sat during meals before and **after** she dumped me. Giggling like a girl **not **like her on joke she does **not** like. Why? Attention, popularity, renown. The twins were popular, in another way, different than I was. But she was not like that! Am I that blind? Mature is the wrong adjective to describe her behaviour revolving around our relationship and her in particular. She knew bloody well, who and what I am and what I have to do. I want to think that she was with me for myself and not for my fame. I want to believe it! More mature... My ass... Grrr! Sorry, but I'm just so frustrated thinking about it! But, she did send the signs, that she liked HJ, not Harry 'BWL' Potter. I could have told if she'd lied... Fuck! More mature... Hah! I shouldn't have let her crawl so deep into my heart! I loved the stupid bim, damn it! Damn! It! Plus this horrible nightmare still mocks my conscious... Argh!

Engaging status: CALM. Three... Two... One... Much better. Finding one's centre and peace along with occlumency training was a useful thing.

So...

I needed something to ebb the pain and vent the frustration. And before you start to frown on this and start preaching about bad habits, lemme tell you something about wizards. Ever wondered why we had a lifespan double, if not triple of a muggle's? Ever wondered why I survived my uncle's beatings? How my bones mended in the right way? How my more serious injuries healed without a scar? Why I haven't been ill, haven't caught the flu not even once? Come to think of it, I haven't been sick ever in my life. Never ever. Physical injuries, sure, but nothing caused by bacteria or viruses or any other micro-organisms.

The answer is magic. Magic is the part of our immune system. Like a filter and a very strong defence mechanism. That's why wizards live that long. Because they are healthy internally. Normally, because I didn't say there weren't magical maladies. So things like cancer are out of the way. My magic serves as an extra filter on the end of my deck. I only got the nicotine, which is the essence of smoking. It gives the rush, the high. What I need. So its okay to smoke if you are a wizard and apparently Sirius had known that, as he merely raised an eyebrow when he found out, then grinned like a mad dog he is and asked for a stick.

I needed fire at that moment, though. You know... 'Come on, baby, light my fire!' or 'Gimme fuel! Gimme fire! Gimme that which I desire!'

I took a deep breath, searched deep down, gripped the sensation I found and pulled it up. I snapped my fingers a few times to test it and sparks flew from them, as if they were flints.

"_Incendio!_" I said, pointing at the torch, which promptly immolated itself, almost setting the tent on fire. But lucky for me, the blaze died down shortly and I managed to light my baccy. Wandless magic wasn't that miraculous talent at all. It wasn't a talent even. Or maybe it was, but then, every single wizard had it. Magic is not the wand! Magic is you! How the fuck else could you have pulled the accidental magic stuff off if you had needed a wand to do magic? It was entirely possible, the intent is always there, it's only a helluva lot harder without a will- and magical-power focus, ergo a wand. That's why it's gone out of fashion and why it was considered a miracle nowadays. I am rambling I know, but I had to distract my mind from this horrid nightmare!

So, I sucked in the first draft, deep down, letting the smoke fill my lungs, and then breathed out the puffy clouds of wasted tar and carbon-monoxide. I felt the anticipated sensation rush through my veins like a chilling wind, numbing my body and mind. The world became dizzy for a short eternity and I swayed in my stance. Then, the dizziness faded into nothingness and only left behind pure serenity inside me. Let me express my sympathy towards muggles, who can't do this without the risk of generating some kind of cancer of heart failure in the long run...

As my mind has gone blank and relaxed, a much clearer view of our situation floated into it. I decided to analyse it as currently nothing else more significant thing was there to do. Except doing something, so I couldn't concern myself with the nightmare. So I sat upon a turned-up buckle and gazed up at the starry night sky.

The Veil in the DoM was a portal to Hell, or the Burning Hells as the locals called it. From there an archangel could make a portal to this mortal world, Sanctuary. From what Master Cain told us, and by our own deductions, this world wasn't that far away from our early Middle Ages. Human population. Some with magical properties. Some with unmatched agility and eyes like a hawk's. Some with strength rivalling that of a giant's. But humans all the same, gathered into similar societies like ours – back in the Middle Ages – like in kingdoms, empires, independent cities and fractions, wild tribes. Military nations, trade nations, agricultural nations, etcetera, such like. One would think, we merely travelled back in time in our world. Horses, castles, swords and bows, plate mails, widespread notice of the existence of magic. Religions were operating too, much in the same fashion as they did in our world. The only difference was: here, the Gods or whatever entities they worshipped were in fact real. After confronting a demon, who turned out to be an angel, frankly, I could easily believe that.

Master Cain asked us to 'Stay awhile and...' talk about our world too. Culture, civilization, magic, knowledge. The idea of flying and electricity as general power source intrigued him a great deal. However our usage of magic and our ways of teaching magic made him frown deeply. He arched an eyebrow at our wands as we showed them to him. He said only necromancers used similar items here. That was somewhat disturbing to us, but after he disclosed that one of the seven heroes of the previous conflict was a necromancer, respectable and brave, and helped raise the reputation of his kind a great deal, we relaxed a bit.

He also retold the tale what Leah started. Much more and in much richer details – no offense, Leah. Apparently, the Prime Evils – badass arch-demon brothers – Mephisto, Diablo and Baal were once a long time ago banished from Hell, by lesser demons into the plane of mortals, Sanctuary. There they were misbehaving as it seemed so a special group called the Horadrim stood up and fought against them. They managed to defeat the Evil Trio and imprison their soul in soulstones, which they hid from everyone and everything. Mephisto's first, under the temple-city of Travincal in Kurast. The Zakarum order was formed and was charged with the guarding of the stone, which the Horadrim hid under the main temple. Baal's soul was trapped inside a stone as well, but there was some minor setback – the soulstone shattered, apparently - and it had to be contained in the body of one of the Horadric magi, namely Tal Rasha. He volunteered actually. The guy sacrificed his own soul and freedom, so Baal's spirit would forever be encased in his shell and would fight an eternal battle with his own soul. Selfless, what can I say! He ordered his peers to bury him 'alive' in his pre-built mausoleum, which was an extensive labyrinth deep below the desert area near the Canyon of the Magi. And for more protection, they built six additional, but fake tombs to lure the treasure-hunters astray from the real tomb. The Canyon was sealed off and was made accessible only from a tricky sidetrack. Diablo's soul was contained alright in one stone and was placed under the Cathedral of Tristram.

It had been right below my arse! It makes me shiver...

Deckard's – that's Master Cain – forefather, Jared Cain has set his lineage upon the path of the Horadrim, and did he so very well, because now, Deckard Cain was the last living member of the noble order. Leah is apprenticing under him, so maybe not all is lost. From the story, these Horadric guardians were pretty awesome warriors, so to think that the little, snarky beauty is a wildcat in combat too...

To make the story short, Mephisto escaped the prison of his soul and while doing it, shattered the stone into seven pieces. Deja vu... He 'gave' six torrent to the priests of the Zakarum, who in turn were corrupted nicely and turned into evil demons serving Mephie. The final, largest shard was put into Que-Hegan, the chief-priest of the temple and later became the host of Mephisto's reincarnation. Then, the eldest brother created the Compelling Orb, which he used to convert the whole Zakarum order. Satisfied with his growing influence, he sent some of his agents to Tristram to initiate his brother's coming to power. Oh, the brotherly love... of the Lord of Hatred... Gosh! Morbid! Back to the topic. Diablo's soul was steadily seeping out of the stone corrupting the land meanwhile. So with the insignificant help of Mephie's slaves, he shed his shackles and brought on his pre-devised plan. Right until he managed to manifest and bring his terror upon the town. Three heroes came here to spank him hard on the ass and they did succeed in the end. Well the rouge girl and the mage died, but the warrior, apparently, finished the demon off. Sadly, he became possessed and wandered off before Cain could do anything about the situation. He wore a dark cloak with its hood on, he barely spoke to anyone and on his wake, trouble and chaos erupted. This is where the name Dark Wanderer came to be, and why it's feared and uttered with a shudder. Honestly, these ridiculous sobriquets are everywhere. The Wanderer went straight to Lut Gholein, the desert area and from there, to Tal Rasha's Tomb and freed his brother, Baal. Together they travelled to Kurast and visited their elder brother, Mephisto. There, after a good afternoon tea and a little catching up, they made a portal back home to Hell and Diablo went ahead to threw a party or something. Meanwhile a band of heroes popped up and began to track the Evil brother's trail. They finished off Mephisto – that easy, huh? - and went through the portal to Hell, after Diablo. They cleaned the place and reached Diablo's lair. Man, to think that these guys marched through that place killing off every bloody horror they encountered... They've got balls, that for sure! They slew the Lord of Terror – that's Diablo's nickname – and destroyed his and Mephisto's soulstone on the Hellforge, killing off its entire guard and its master, Hephasto along the way – the very task that a actual archangel - whose sword-torrent I'm wielding right now - and his whole bloody regiment had failed to accomplish.

Phew... I though this all with a single breath! Applaud me!

Baal somehow eluded the heroes and stole back his soulstone from an insane bloke, called Marius, I think. Then he started his champaign to revenge his brothers and destroy the world. Congrats, noble heroes! Really. You couldn't have found a better way to piss him off if you'd tried! So we had an angry demon with an apocalyptic plan to burn everything. He wanted to execute this feat by corrupting the Worldstone, located in the stomach of the sacred Mount Arreat in the land of the barbarians. Our esteemed heroes – I truly esteem them, no irony in my thoughts this time – followed his trail of destruction and confronted him in the Worldstone Chamber. They killed him, but the Stone was already corrupted, so the Archangel Tyrael destroyed it for the greater good. But with this deed he nullified that barrier that separated the three dimensions. The High Heavens, Sanctuary and the Burning Hells. Since then, twenty years have passed and everyone waited in tense anticipation for Chaos to erupt on the face of the world and for the Great Conflict – the ever present struggle between Light and Dark – to ensue here once again. But nothing happened. No sign of Hell, no sign of Heaven. The Evil Triplets are gone. Tyrael disappeared. Master Cain is wary though and tries to find answers as to why this sudden, but tense period of peace exists. Not that he is ungrateful for the quiet intermezzo, but it wasn't expected and as such heeds him to be wary. After a dam-break one would assume the tidal wave to wash away everything. As it happens to be now, the block of water just stays in place even if the dam itself doesn't exist anymore. So this scenario baffles the greatest of scholars. Again I'm doing the assumptions, but they are very factual and natural assumptions, ones that should came to pass by the laws of this universe. Like that braking dam metaphor.

But some things just don't seem right to me.

**First**, the three Prime Pissed Punks wanted to go back to Hell and pretty most likely punish their lesser lieutenants for the cheeky prank they committed. Namely banishing them and claiming their throne. So pray tell me, why in the darned fuck would our heroes rush in, cry out bloody murder and crash the party, effectively interrupting the Demonic Triangle's descend back home to mind their own business. They don't care about humans; they want to beat the angels, yes? So that would have been the main aim, wouldn't it? I mean to banish the Bad Guys back! So why did they had to muck the whole thing up killing off two of them, infuriating the last one, catalysing his destructing advance on this land. I understand, that if they had let them go back to Hell, they could have come back some time later to play, but then, the freakin Worldstone, the current cause of this inter-dimensional stir – or its lack, thereof - would be still intact, kicking and alive, doing its job to maintain the Barrier. And some other functions, which Cain was very vague and mysterious about. Heh, so typical. Whenever I'm supposed to save the world, I have to do it without knowing a thing, just groping in the dark... Is this circumstance common among heroes or it's just unique with me?

**Second**, this Tyrael character is a tad bit dodgy for my liking. He orders Izual and his legion of **angels**, the all-powerful bunch of seraph and seraphim, to wipe out Hellforge and destroy the anvil and hammer. Surprisingly, they fail. Izual is corrupted for decades. Right. Later, he is – Izual – the one, who tells the Three about the stones. Ah, yes, the bit about the soulstones. Tyrael gave them to the Horadrim himself, and according to Cain, doing so against the will of some mighty angelic council. They, the soulstones, were supposed to contain the evil spirits without breach or radiation. He orders the 'destined to fail' Izual to go down to Hell. He fails and later butts out the secret about the stones. Baal's in the beginning shatter. Diablo's and Mephisto's radiate their influence like a month old corpse emits the stench of decay. But Tyrael is the Saviour of Sanctuary, because his brave intervention despite the ire of the Council. Okay. Next on the list, he convinces our heroes to chase Diablo to Hell. They **miraculously** succeed in destroying the Hellforge. **Seven mortal humans. **Plus they slay Diablo, again our seven, flesh and blood, mortal Homo sapiens. Oh, by the way, Mighty Tyrael fails to stop a bloody fool, Marius, from pulling out Baal's stone from the chest of the possessed Tal Rasha. I hardly think he is that incompetent. He's got these wing-wannbee, tentacle-looking thingies after all... Right, the 'I can make a portal from Hell to Earth to Heaven and back again' Archangel Tyrael sets our heroes on the long and tiring path through hordes of minor demons to reach Mount Arreat **alas, too late. **The Worldstone is already corrupted and Tyrael, Protector of Mankind, has no other option than destroying the rock, thus negating the Barrier. Then, he magnanimously opens a portal back to the barbarian fort for our tired heroes. Fishy, isn't it? Rhetorical question... We can all see.

**Third,** if there's a Angelic Council or whatever, why haven't they done something? They didn't do a thing during these events. No a flicker of their pinkie fingers! They only scolded Tyrael for passing the soulstones to us mortals. In-fuckin-teresting. Hell runs amok and plays as it pleases in the mortal realm; yet esteemed Heavens just sit back and watch. Why? Why is the inaction? What's their mainspring? Cain muttered something about 'It's their way...', but I wasn't sure even back then I heard correctly and if I did, I can't place it anywhere.

**Fourth**, just why hasn't all the Hell broken loose in the interim? The opportunity just begged to be taken advantage of. Yet, nothing happened. Not a single hellspawn came to the surface for a whiff of fresh, sulphur-free air. Why? There was no superior defence here, the Angels were on vacation, the Horadrim is a legend spread by the last member, true heroes became ever rarer, it could have been a free for all skirmish. But no. Nothing. I wonder whether there is some kind of a non-aggression pact between Heaven and Hell. I can't explain the scenario otherwise. Conspiracies are always apt to explain enigmatic world-wide riddles.

I guess you don't know why either... I know I don't. Alas, I will have to if I want to help. If I want to go back home...

Home... Is there a way back home at all? Is it possible? But, if there is a portal in the DoM leading into the Burning Hells, then there has to be a portal leading back! No? Curse me a thousand times and punch me in the guts and kick me a few times before spitting on me, because I hadn't looked around in Hell properly. I did not look for a similar Veil. I know that in our immediate vicinity – around the site where we had arrived on – there wasn't any portal. But maybe it was there, just a little further, deeper.

Ah, damn it all to hell! I'll just have to solve this shit from the beginning to the end before even the possibility of going back arises. Fuck!

I feel like I'm letting down my friends. I feel like I'm letting Gin, Mione, Ron, Luna, Nev, Katie, Fleur, Albus, the Weasleys, everyone... die.

I'm not there to stop Him. I'm here and willingly waste time on a crisis not even my concern...

I'm a horrible friend. A horrible hero... I'm not even a hero, damn it!

"Harry?"

My dear Dora was very good at one thing: startling the living shit out of me! But how polite of her, she apparently waited for me to finish that train of thought...

"Aaaargh! Ah, uhm... Hi! Ah, Dora...Hi!" was all I said. Looking back, it must have been quite hilarious sight. Harry Potter, sitting on a water bucket in the middle of the night, clad in his flower patterned boxers and a red tee, looking everything like a startled bunny with a cigarette about to drop from the corner of his mouth, doing this all in the alien world of Sanctuary, in the middle of a tourist tent-camp near Old Tristram, one of the most famous pilgrim battleground sites here.

Maybe that's why she started giggling like a silly teen girl with a huge crush on me... Sorry, Gin, no offense, but you did right that once.

"I fail to see what's so damned funny, Nymphadora!" I told her indignantly and naively. Righteously upset, I stood and turned to face the distant lights of the Cathedral, still emitting puffs of smoke.

"Nothing... I just love your boxers!" she said, then started off again.

"These are my lucky boxers! They have protection charms on them!" I said even more indignant. But it seemed, it wasn't the right thing to say, because she started laughing so hard, that she dropped to the ground and rolled. I was rolling too, but just my eyes. However, I couldn't help chuckling myself. Her laughter was light, lifting, melodious and contagious.

Sometime later I turned back to the foreboding silhouette of the Cathedral already in thoughts.

"HJ..." said Dora from behind me. I looked back over my shoulders and she came close, pressing herself against my back, sliding her arms around my chest from behind. Her head came to rest on my shoulder and she kissed me behind my ear making me shudder. She just managed to hit that particularly sensitive spot. Oh god... "We still have to talk," she breathed into my ear, prolonging my shudder. It could be considered, just only maybe, a totally friend-like thing. But only if you wanted to enforce that theory very much. And after today, that theory was erased from my lexicon.

Why does she have to talk anyway? Sometimes mere actions speak more volumes than words. But she was right; we did indeed need to talk. Mainly about the thing, that was occurring at this blessed moment. She was playing with me. But after a point, I didn't want just games. If she played with me just a little too much and 'played' me over a certain point, I might just snap and take control over the rules of the game, which she might not want. I don't wanna hurt her. Far too precious for that. As a friend. I always found her disgustingly attractive and sexy in her rebellious, vivid, rapturously clumsy way. And the person resident inside that stunning doll veneer is simply awesome in my opinion; I never considered furthering our relationship in a romantic way. Until now. If she wants it, she will get it. With all the gratis bonus that comes with me. Heh.

"'bout what?" I mumbled as I furrowed my hand into his lovely hair in a reverse embrace.

"About us. And about me in particular."

"Yes?" I encouraged, while I turned my head sideways and started kissing and teasing her cheek.

"What are we doing?" she whispered. I think I got the meaning.

"We're doing what makes us happy. Are you happy?" I asked as I suckled on her slender neck just below her jaw.

"Mmmm..." she replied. But I classify the noise as a moan. That was usually a happy sound. "Yes..." I stood confirmed. For three full seconds. Then she leaned back and looked at me soberly. "What are we doing?"

"Ah..." I said. And had to stop to think straight and search for an answer. I found non. What were we doing? "Should I be wary, because you asked this particular question? But... I dunno. Enjoying ourselves? Carpe diem? I was kind of hoping you would know the answer or at least fine-detail the thing," I said finally. It wasn't an answer really, but it bought me time and the chance to see her reaction or emotions.

"Had I known, I wouldn't have asked, silly," she said and I expected a teasing smile to go with it. None came. She was serious. Reason to feel uncomfortable? Probably. "Why did you kiss me?" Now this was unexpected. But I don't think she was mad at me.

"You asked for it?" It was more of a statement from me. It was quite obvious in my opinion.

"But not you exclusively. Just in general... Why did **you** kiss me?"

"Well, you wouldn't expect Sirius to snog you, would you? I understand, that with the Blacks, marriage within family was quite common, so you guys being cousins wouldn't matter much... But, I thought you were different..." I said deadpan, trying to make the matter bagatelle. However, from her expression, joking around was maybe the wrong way.

"I didn't mean Sirius! Gosh, HJ!" she said, irritation lacing her timbre. Still called me HJ, though. That's good, wasn't it?

"And Remus wasn't up for the job...so..."

"What?" she suddenly looked surprised. And moreover, I could see a crestfallen look in her eyes for a moment. "What do you mean?"

"After you said you needed some excitement-"

"Happiness!"

"Whatever. He looked at me with those pleading eyes of his. I think even Ron 'Lord of Thickness' Weasley would have noticed the request in them. 'Please do it instead of me!' And I gladly did. Why would I have not... What is it? What's wrong?" I cut myself short as I noticed her sad look. She didn't say anything. But flushed a little. Now what the heck was that all abo... Of course! "You wanted **him** to kiss you, didn't you?" I asked a little bit too morosely. Or maybe not, considering the situation. She did enjoy the kiss. My kiss. And she did initiate a kiss with me the other time. So it was right to be jealous or pissed or whatever... Right? After Katie, I righteously began to dislike girls beguiling me.

"I..."

"You have feelings for him." I deduced. It was more of a guess, I think.

"I..." she said again. She was getting good with this particular pronoun. Then she sighed and met my gaze bravely. Another amazing trait of hers. Backbone.

Fuck! This scenario just sucks!

"I have a thing for you, HJ. That's sure as hell! But...there's something else... I don't know. I'm confused. You attract me like honey does bees. I go all tingly and ablaze when you touch me. And you kiss like an angel. And I like you...a lot. And I know it's wrong, as I'm an adult, seven year your superior and you are underage still. But I just can't... I can't deny my feelings! And who gives a shit about things like this during wartime? Especially here. However... There's this tiny thing though... I..."

Honest she was. I appreciate that. And I have another girl lusting after me. That's two now. But to think of it... Cho did almost jump at me, when she tried to plead herself back into my good graces. And Katie went through a metamorphosis when I first kissed her. She became wild... Fleur admitted her overwhelming attraction for me. I am dumbfounded. Do I look that good?! Or what? I don't consider myself revoltingly handsome. I'm just in harmony with myself, I guess. I accepted myself with all my pros and cons. I know my strengths and flaws and I know how to handle them. Does this peace with my being and this self-recognition affect my looks? Help me; I'm in the dark side here! I sure am a little bit...okay a lot more confident then my, say, third year self. The 'Before Sirius self'... I just don't think it makes me quite the priced stag for the chicks. Apparently, I am wrong.

And before you go there, I am NOT complaining. Just merely made an observation.

"What do you find attractive about me?"

"Ah... Your eyes, the most. No word to describe them, really. I just... loose myself if you look at me like **that**! The little motions you can make with those elegant brows of yours. Why, I like them! Your smiles and grins are better than any kneecap braking curse. Your little... mannerisms, gestures. Your poise, the way you carry yourself. With purpose, confidence and... grace. Your... your personality allures me too. These kind of things..."

Wow!

I'm quite speechless now. I had no idea. But I hit the nail on the head with my guesswork again. These things she like me for all came from my inner peace and confidence. BIG thanks, Padfood, my man! And she did not mention any of my truly physical traits. Like my powerful muscles – which I do not have -, my beautiful hair – which has a personal grudge again me and never wants to obey me, though I threatened it with a comb time to time, to no avail. She only mentioned parts of my face. The kinds of things I inherited from my parents. I'm not the hottest guy in the market, but my personality shines through my rough skin. Oh, sappy...

"That's shiny, Dora, because I think you give Fleur a run for her money in looks. And that's saying something, 'cos she's got the Veela charm, so you start with a disadvantage, and yet... I couldn't find a more beautiful thing if I tried." Please, little compliments, do you best! And they did, as she flush adoringly. "You like me and want me. I like you and bloody hell I want you badly! Put the ingredients together and we have chemistry. What is the matter? Why stop? We wouldn't know it's either good or bad for us if we didn't try..." I said convincingly, but she just became even more desperate and torn.

"Harry, don't do this to me..."

"Why not?" I asked coyly. Now that I regained my confidence, I planned to put it into good use. Currently, shifting her collar aside and kissing her collarbone in a peculiar little spot, which I know from Sirius, gives most women P.L.E.A.S.U.R.E. It did. If she needed convincing, I was glad to do the job.

"Because..." she moaned and for a minute or two, I thought I won a battle, I hadn't known I fought. But she leaned back again, plus this time even stepped away. "Because I have fallen for Remus. It's more like a crush, but it's growing, and I'm confused and he's oblivious and you are not helping!"

I just stood there, still as a statue, my face void of any emotion, positive or negative. She faced me, panting heavily, looking like 'There, I said it! Happy now? But please, don't be mad! Please!' I stared back at her steadily for a good two minutes. She almost reached the brink of braking down in tears. She would have if I hadn't said something soon. So I finally said...

"Then, I reckon, I'll have to duel our dear werewolf for your hand..."

Silence.

I stared at her. She stared at me. We stared. And some more. My mouth twitching, her lips curling. And then...

Laughter.

Holy cow, was this awkward! But it seems to be over. She came back into my arms and kissed me shortly. But then, punched me in the chest, hard.

"Damn you, Harry!" she said and I failed to see my fault here. But she leaned back against me, so I was not complaining. "Don't you understand? With that kiss back there, you poured oil onto my little flame that kindled inside my heart for you ever since we became such good friends. It was just a spark when we met, a spark I was very aware of. But since you showed no signs of interest then, I ignored it in favour of our developing friendship. Then, slowly and I think quite unnoticed by me, that spark became a flame. Not too large, but ever present, warming, unique. With that kiss, you set my flame ablaze. And you can shift this metaphor physically downward towards my other heat-source. Damn it all, HJ! You created another pole of a strong magnet here. I want you badly. But I also want Remus to reciprocate my feelings. I wanted him for a long time now. But you changed everything. And I can't be mad at you. Right now, I getting ever more worked up and I haven't the slightest clue why! Damn it, Harry!"

She said this very quickly, with no more than two breaths, but so genuinely and so nicely, that I almost shed a tear. No beguile here, people! Dora is just amazing, and I fear I will feel peculiar feelings for her in a short time, if we keep this up. That flame metaphor was the most beautiful thing anyone have ever told me! I told her so.

"Dora... No one ever said something like this to me. Ever. So stop, or there will be consequences. The immediate one very enjoyable, but the later... not in the slightest. So let's talk normally. I understand your dilemma. I sympathize with you. And I think I know what we're gonna do. I've known Remus for a long time now and I've hardly met anyone a nicer bloke than him. And here, I'm thinking of a very all-encompassing meaning of nice. With all the positive traits involved. He deserves happiness. He helped me so much and taught me so much. He suffered and lived through so much. He deserves a gift like you, even probably better than me. I'm still young, I'll have... plenty... of opportunities to find another yo... girl." Thrice damn my stupid voice for cracking and wavering. "And yet again, he is a much safer person to be with, even with his lycanthropy. I have a deadly prophesy looming above my head back home like the fuckin toothpick of Damocles. No! Wait, hear me out, please, Dora! An evil, scaly ass, chop-souly, quite immortal, reptilian crackpot is after my blood along with his sadistic, death-monger abject buddies. Here, I happened to become the master of the most important weapon of this war and I offered my help, because I'm a gargantuan git with a hero complex. Not only I'm dangerous to be around with – one point I'd understand if you ignored, 'cos maybe dangerous guys attract you –, but I'm also most likely destined for a short life. So it would be the best if you didn't attach yourself too much to me, for I could easily die one of these days. And I'm sure I would die a second time, seeing your heart break. I know Remus is either clueless or lacks the balls to act, to say something or maybe is only a great git, ignoring his feelings. So, to make him see the wood for the trees, we're going to make him see your innate beauty and shine, and then we make him jealous. Make him want you. But once he gets his act together, I'll step aside."

There. It was harder to say this aloud than it would appear. And I'm not sure I meant it really. And watching the look on her face – one of utter shock – I'm ever so unsure about this decision. However, one thought about Remus was enough and my resolve strengthened. Bugger it, you old wolf, but you deserve her!

"Harry... You... you can't... That's stupid. You can't be serious!"

"Of course not. I'm Harry." But she didn't even hear my lame and overused pun.

"That's... Tis... It's not what I want!"

"You couldn't decide. I decided for you. I could, because a relationship takes two people and in a good relationship both parties have a say in such questions."

"But... But... I don't want you to..."

"I made up my mind."

"But I want to be with you!"

"But you also want to be with Remus. See? You're confused. Indecisive. You said that yourself. As I caused this emotional stir inside you, now I'm solving it by extracting the problem, namely myself, from the equation. Besides, you can be with me for a while until he notices his feelings and acts by his heart."

"But that's not... It won't work. While being together making him jealous, I'll fall for you so hard you won't be able to pull me off of you even with a peeling charm!"

"Then, I'll make up something to get you hate me, say something nasty and cruel. We'll have a flashy fallout, so then you can run into his arms for comfort. Whatever. We shall see the future in its due time. In the meanwhile... As my little improvised preach affected you so much, let us enjoy our time left together! Carpe diem became my motto these days..."

"Shut up already and snog me silly!"

"Aye, ma'am!

"Hmm, I'm so gonna make you forget your idiotic plan!"

"You can try!"

And we then attempted to suckle our wits out through our orifices. Damn. Maybe she was right and I will forget my decision... she was sure high on lust and passion! We shall see...

What we couldn't see was a certain and often mentioned werewolf rolling back to his side on his cot inside and closing his eyes with a determined mind and with a firm decision. We won't know that he heard us for a long time.

* * *

The morning found us outside the tent. Well, more like the boss of the camp found us; I remembered his name was Mikas. He found us on a rug just before the tent lying in a very compromising position. Embracing each other in a obviously more than friendly way wearing only knickers and boxers, but otherwise brazen buff-bare. And to forego your forming thought, no. We haven't. Not yet...

But I think not ever. If we did, I'm sure I would not be able to step aside for Remus.

"Khmm," his throat crooked and we stirred. I unlocked my lids shielding my vision and looked up a little dazedly at the man. The git was showing a great amount of tact as he scrutinized us with hungry eyes and a full-blown grin that showed his artificial teeth of some silvery material. I scowled hard at him – the hardest from a fresh-waken, half naked, 'I'm lying on my girlfriend, dude!' teenager boy – and he just grinned more. Peeping bastard...

"Good mornin', eh?" he rasped from behind his never-faltering grin.

"Could be better without you..." I murmured into Dora's... er, neck. "What do you want?"

"I'm not sure, ya wanna hear it, lad!" he chuckled, while his hungry eyes virtually 'opened' my Gift. "But it ain't me, who want sumthin' from ye! Masta' Cain summons yah!"

"Right. Got the message. Thanks for your service. You may leave." I said with intent to get the 'subtle' message: Sod off! Get.

"Say, how much d'ya want for this woman?" he asked with unmistakable intention. A little drop of drool trailed down his chin signalling the happy prospects his mind made up for him if he made a deal. Needless to say my anger multiplied itself and my eyes flared. It was only good for the man's grin to waver a little, but it wasn't enough.

My hand unconsciously flickered to the tent's direction and my wand came, flying out in a second, right into my awaiting palm. I raised its tip at the Mikas' heart and said one word that perfectly expressed my possessiveness, my opinion on the 'deal' and a 'subtle' threat.

"Leave!"

We were the customers after all; we paid for this tent and our peace and privacy with it. And by the amount of Galleons – yes, Galleons, for you see, gold coins are gold coins in every universe – we gave to Mikas, a little bit better service would be expected.

His grin faded away as he eyed my wand with fear. He merely nodded, spun on his heels and left. Joy. Even pleasure... Hmm. Oh, right! That was Dora, who has roused up also from the commotion and was now kissing my left ear. She had found out quickly my soft spots and used them shamelessly. And to be honest, and in retrospect, she did manage to lead my mind astray from my plan. Forfeiting her to Remus was far from my thoughts at the moment.

"Oh, my Hero!" she murmured into my earlobe making me shiver. "Saved me from the grasp of the villain yet again... How can I repay you?"

"Is it Christmas yet? For I found the best gift in my bed this morning..." I breathed to her and initiated a tender kiss which she responded eagerly. The only thing that stopped us was the unreasonable instinctual urge every mammal possess – to breathe. Unfair, I say. Some reptiles can breathe via their skin. Or the plants! Yeah, why can't humans take carbon-dioxide with photosynthesis? Oh-kay. That's silly. So we broke the kiss, that's the thing. And I gazed into her squinting, but vibrant violet eyes and smiled.

"I did it," she told me then. Ah... okay. I have the distant feeling I should know what she's talking about.

"Did what?"

"Distracted your mind from your stupid plan of unhealthy selflessness!"

"Ah, that! Well... yeah," I said with the tact to look sheepish, but then shrugged a little, to indicate that it didn't matter. "So thanks for the reminder, Dee!"

"Your welcome. But it doesn't matter," she said my thoughts back at me, shrugging too. It was all too non-committal for my liking. Sirius does this exact little nonchalant mannerism before a sneaky, but brilliant prank. Gin learned the art from him. And now, it looked like Dora started as well. I can frankly say I'm screwed... "You won't be able to deny me for too long and I'm not about to just let you go easily."

"But you want to let me go, yes?"

"No."

"Dora, we agreed to..."

"I know. Okay. Whatever. I won't act, though. I will be in an honest relationship with you and if Remus initiates, I bloody well hope you won't just scram off like a frightened puppy if he so much as address me in a little bit friendlier manner!" Dora said. **Intently. **

"Mmmm-khay," I drawled slowly with an accompanying nod, likewise slow. "But what will you do, when Remus adds his own lopsided grin into the equation? What will you do, when he wakes up and opens his arms for you? I start to think that **you **will be the one to break **my** heart..."

"Nope," she said simply and avoiding my question. It was so simple, yet so stubbornly determined, that I found myself believing her and forgetting her missed, serious answer I expected. "That's settled! Come on, sexy, let's start the day, shall we?"

"I have so much better ideas about a good start of a day, then going for a chat to Master Cain..." I muttered lowly, but she heard nevertheless. You know, as she was not wearing any piece of clothe upon her upper body and she laid beside me popped up on her elbow, facing me, completely content and unabashed, my mind presented me with the scenes I was not supposed to do right now with her.

"Oh, I'm sure... How about, you share your ideas about how to **end** a good day once we turn to bed?" she inquired with a so sly smile and patented Marauder Mischief Eye-twinkle that I was immediately hard on the job to think up as many ideas as I dared. Yes, hard on the job...

"Rock n' Roll! Only it's Roll n' Rock now..."

"What?"

"Roll over now, so we can get up. Then tonight, you can Rock my world!"

* * *

A/N: I know, it was a long, all-talk chappie, but things have to be explained. Because things are different here from the canon, even before the Veil-incident. And if I don't explain, you'll complain. So we got here a bit from Harry's past and some more of his personality. And I owed you a summary of the situation. Very few things changed from the original Diablo II game, and the main plot ideas of this fable will be based on the little known facts about the third instalment. Now you know my version of event that led up to present time in this story. There was also a little romantic sidetrack with Dora, but honestly, what would **you** chose? Musing about parallel world, demons, fate, nightmares and the fine details of this new land; or pay full attention to the target of your attraction/lust/heart, alone in the dark night, under the moonlight, without too much clothing? Sensuality and romance is essential, even for a would-be-hero, like Harry. Especially for him. But as it's him, nothing will be right off, easy or complete... yet. But don't worry all of you, who were starting to, there **will** be blood and demons and swords clashing and spells flying. Soon.

Thanks for reading, would be grateful for a review!


	4. Briefings

**Harry Potter and the Great Conflict**

_« Written by PSBlasius »_

Disclaimer: Copyright © JKRowling and © Blizzard Entertainment. If I were the owner of Harry Potter™ and Diablo™, then I would not write here for no profit.

* * *

Chapter Four – Briefings

* * *

Leah swept into the tent without warning, as if a corporeal version of the morning breeze, but fortunately for the four of us, we were already dressed, refreshed and prepared for everything, which was always almost nothing. Her sudden apparition there was confusing somewhat, but after her quick explanation that we were in fact primarily guests here and just then the impromptu, happy-go-lucky champions, the fog cleared.

As to why she was here with us – like a tour-guide or guardian or chaperone, whatever –, she only grumbled that a true member of the Horadrim needed to be adept in as many skills and talents of this world as possible. Not only in the arcane arts or in combat techniques, but social skills too for example, manners, charisma and speechcraft, all that sh... stuff. And apparently Leah have been found wanting on those particular areas. Somehow I wasn't surprised at that... She was a bit... ah, crude... considering lady-like manners. Or human manners in general, that is...

"Well, it makes sense to me!" I told her, coming to a realization after her explanation.

"Do tell!" she said, in a tone one would expect to be curious or at the least mildly impatient. However, it came out as a snapped command. Maybe it added to the hopefully unintentional result, that she had the remnants of sleep in her eyes; not a morning person, I presume. I'm cranky too, if my average sleep time is cropped down. But as an apprentice to a once powerful and still legendary order, she must be used to instant wake-up calls. Except maybe if this day would have been off for her – shore-leave or such -, but conveniently, our arrival mucked that plan up and her master saw it an opportunity to get her to practice her lacking PR skills.

"Well, from what Master Cain told us, I imagine a Horadric guardian as an esteemed, lofty, spotless paragon of pure goodness and just. And those traits are best impressed through a highly likable, charismatic character. Such champion with the charm of a rabid wolf would blacken the reputation of the order, no?"

"Thank you so much for your insight, **Outlander**!" she drawled with honey flavoured venom.

"See, that's what I was talking about!"

"How about you act like good guests, complain about being hungry so that I can take you to the tavern and we can put the breakfast and this whole nightmare behind us! There are important matters to attend to!" she advised strongly. Then without further ado, she exited the tent with the distinctive lingering feeling, that we should follow her, or else...

I looked over to the side at my cot, on which my godfather and honorary uncle was perched, looking everything like Hedwig used to, when I argued with her about magical theory. Meaning that they blinked with owlishly wide eyes, while intelligence just radiated off of them. I was being sarcastic, if you wondered...

It was my dear Tonks however, who supplied us with a pliable explanation.

"That bim needs to get laid..."

What can I say? Most male wouldn't argue with that logic. If you are confused or can't find answers, sex is always a plausible way. You hardly think about your problems when your sensitive flesh rubs against tender skin; wads of nerves are being zapped by shockwaves of sensual tsunamis; your dormant, primal, instinct-controlled beast-self carves to crawl up to the surface and take the leash of your body's motions in its powerful paws and just cast your conscious mind aside; when every touch of your lover can cost your restraints to shatter, snap, melt and fade; and the urge to connect more, touch more, feel more, become one being more on a higher level; when all this seemed all empowering... Shit, now I did it for myself... Imagination is real magic – and frighteningly powerful. Maybe I can excuse myself out to 'drop a piss'...

But let's not steer our thought towards 'that' department, because then, we truly won't get anything accomplished today. Well, maybe something very nice, but that hardy will save the world...

Mikas was nice enough to leave us fresh, authentic, Sanctuary-patented clothes in our tent. Coarse linen tunics of the utmost simplicity and similar pants we got there with an amorphous piece of leather that was titled as boots and pieces of ropes, which posed as belts. Completing the set, an auxiliary trench-coat-lookalike hanged form the peg near the entrance. All this for one galleon and a sickle. Individually. Legal burglary, that's what it was! So we started off towards the tavern like true residents of Tristram, except for Tonks of course, who kept her black leather pants, boots and auror overcoat on. And the pink hair of course! I heard Leah mutter comments on her appearance in a sulky way and I was even more confirmed about what Dora said. You need to be able to let yourself go, chill out, be cool, relax and feel good in general. Because if those things elude you, come hard to you, then the world has become a truly cruel and dark place for you. No reason to fight for the world, if you cannot **live** innit, no?

Actually, there're those exceptional people, who live for battle. But those people are insane and positioned rather low on the average lifespan chart in my opinion. You have to fight for a **reason**! It's just like with the case of arguments; you don't argue just for argument's sake! That's pointless and a complete waste of time and brain-power. And causes migraines.

After a short walk, or more like jog, because Leah was still insisting that the case was a matter of life and death, thus basically run to our destination. Some tour-guide, huh? The tavern was named aptly the Goat Hill Tavern. Apt, because we had to cut our way through a flock of goats to reach the little pathway that led up to the facility on top of a hill, called Goat Hill. Original, don't you reckon? Upon entering, I received a strong familiar sensation. It was as if we just entered the Hog's Head back at home. I half expected Aberforth, Albus' brother, to grunt at us as was his way of greeting and inquiry for our orders. There were more holes in the walls than mortar and the furnishing seemed to have survived a few centuries, but just barely. The patrons, all three of them, appeared to be the part of the theme, like Mickey Mouse of Disneyland. However, Mickey was a much more appealing figure compared to these.

There was a bald man, who seemed to be the epitome of drunks. Red nose, glassy eyes gazing into the smeared swirl of toxic oblivion, stiff and vain muscles, which operated on alcohol instead of oxygen-filled blood. He was currently quite catatonic, most likely meditating on the big questions of life...

An old man sat by the counter in a heavy cloak. The hair on his body proliferated wild, growing from everywhere like the flora in a rainforest. He was motionless, and it appeared that the high chair he sat on was his legs, as if he amalgamated with the wood. His left elbow set station on the counter and held a pipe loosely between smoke-discoloured fingers. He reeked of cheap tobacco and a steady column of smoke crawled out upwards from his facial orifices, as if he were a living factory or refinery.

At one of the tables sat the third figure; slumped in a chair, laying out cards on the table and muttering to herself. A woman, judged by her smaller, thinner carcass and her voice. Her dirty, faded cloak was purple and its hood obscured her face, but I had the distinct feeling that she was watching us.

Then the bartender appeared, out of blue. A feat that, noting his body mass and size of a small giant, was quite remarkable. He was a Hagrid-sized man, only with much less hair on his body, but more bundles of muscle overall. His simple leather apron was bulging above his massive chest and it was a wonder that the fragile glass being cleaned in his shovel hands was still in one piece. Man, his biceps was even wider than my **thigh**. And considering the amount of footwork I do and the number of times I needed to run, my thighs were the most powerful and worked out parts of my body.

The giant then did something, which did nothing to blunt his intimidating appearance. He grinned. It gave his face a predatorial look of a ruthless warrior high on bloodlust, showing yellow teeth, which could cope as a snarl. I saw a 'smile' similar on Tom's face, but while that was 'simply' evil and sadistic, on this mountain of meat, it was **scary.**

"Greetings, little travellers!" he addressed us in a voice that was anything, but scary. Funny, more like. It was high! I mean, high compared to his size, so an average baritone. Likewise, his denominating us as 'little' was not too offending, as he was easily twice **my** height. "What can I- Oh! Hello there, Leah! I didn't see you there!" the giant said jovially.

"Ahoy, Zerda! We came for a light breakfast," said Leah in a familiar, yet distant voice. She reminded me ever so much of Fleur. The aloof disposition to others not overly in close connection to them was quite similar in the two women. "I'd like the usual."

"One Leah's favourite, Eh'reen!" he called back over his shoulder to a room opening from behind the counter, addressing the presupposed cook – a female by the name. He then turned back to gift Leah with a paternalistic smile. Hagrid did this same thing; and now I realise that this has something to do with the unconscious feeling of superiority they constantly had over everyone around them actually, due to their sizes and the their need to not show it or at least cover it with these regretful, yet reassuring smiles. Every day learn the children of men! Okay, onto the present time-flow...

"On the way, doll! And for you four, what'd it be?" Zerda asked shifting his gaze at us.

I glanced sideways at my companions a little uncertainly. Sirius was craning his neck to sneak a peek into the kitchen area behind the shoulder of the giant. Remus showed his usual calm and perceiving, yet idle poise and merely raised an eyebrow at my glance. Those two Marauders were on a quest to train me into an independent man, so usually let me handle 'interact with society' situations, only intervening when it got out of my control. Before I could endeavour on my 'act like an adult' practice however, Dora took the lead to deliver our desiderata in her peculiar way.

"Anything you'd suggest?" she asked brightly, twirling her now long dirty blonde hair using her index finger as a curling rod. I start to realize she likes to act, for this overly... 'girly' hokum she performed was not in her everyday routine.

"I would – granted, you can digest it..." the colossus shot back with a challenging smirk.

"Hmm. My tummy is yet asleep. Maybe if you can show me to some invigorating liquor, that would rouse it up, I would be ready to consume a boar?" Tonks proposed with a charming smile. I have yet to figure out what she was up to, but the 'invigorating liquor' part might give some clue. The wink she shot me, though, did not help to see the light. "You know what? Make it four! My friends need some molten courage to face the trials we surely will encounter..."

Okay, she wants to drink. Okay, it's only eight-thirty in the morning. Okay, we'll be facing trials. Okay, I'm yet fifteen. But... why now? I guess it's just her spur of the moment thing... I won't complain though, oh no, sir! No Mrs. Weasley to draw the margins... Boy, I'm going spiralling down!

"I might just have a keg of fine rum shipped straight from Bramwell that might suit your needs! By the Ancients! A woman with spirit, who loves the spirit! If you can down this with a single gulp and stand straight without a grimace, your meals are on the house!"

Now, that was surprising and it was now clear what the whole act was about!

"You got yourself a deal!"

You know, for a Puff', she's real lioness considering bold bravery. I didn't say reckless, for I haven't seen her like that. And didn't say bravado, because something's tellin me, that she will do it, all right...

While Zerda disappeared for the rum, suddenly I found Sirius beside me, leaning in an obviously inconspicuous way against my shoulder.

"You might as well enjoy this, you know..." he whispered. I knew, but what's the little reminder for?

"Of course! Why shouldn't I?"

"However unbelievable, I am your godfather. So I should have some sort of responsibility for you..."

"Oooh..." I started, staring at him with eyes radiating understanding. Irony implied. "...khay!"

"But, you remember that I told you that... we were to do a little godfather-godson session this summer. At your fifteenth. A manly thing, like going out into the night, turning in to pubs, drinking, swearing, darts, pool, cards. Some more drinking, getting into fights, picking up ladies and entertaining them... These sorts of things, you know?"

"Sirius."

"And as we are seemingly struck here... I thought that we ah, we..."

"Sirius!"

"Wha'?"

"Thank you for trying to act like the perfect godfather you wish to be and please what- or whoever you want to correspond to – maybe James or Lily. But please, don't! You already are and I'm sure you already do. Are perfect and do please, I mean. What you just did was so not like you... I saw your intention, it is appreciated and duly noted, but you won't measure up to either my parents' or whatever gods' standards with this act. Just be yourself. That is more than enough. It couldn't be any closer to perfection in my opinion. Okay, Padfoot?"

Wow, this 'adultery/maturity-training' pays off, don't you agree? I haven't been this insightful in a long time. Yes, and I haven't been insightful for too long, that is.

"Bloody darn hell, kiddo! That was something... something! I'm so proud..." he told me with teary, twinkling eyes and all that shit. Plus he was initiating a hug. But I was quicker.

"Oh-ho-ho, brother, halt! We're about to start a 'bull-session' whatnot, but how does your hugging me with a sappy smile and puppy eyes fit into that, huh?"

"Oh, look at that! The initiate crammed the Code and knows it well! Instinctually. Hey, Moony! You hear this?"

And they were off. The initiate part was my 'apprenticeship' to the Marauders, because that was Sirius' condition of springing me from the Dursleys and allowing me to live with him. And he had to bootlick around Albus and Fudge and their gang to do that, so out of an act of genuine gratefulness, I acceded. I'm a better man, hence that... No shit.

The Code, naturally, referred to the Marauder's Code of Conduct. A never immortalized, but highly revered and strongly abided collection of 'suggestions'. Not laws, nor rules, because the First Suggestion of the Code says: 'Laws are to control you and restrict you. But if you are awesome enough, you can control the laws freely! And rules are just mere guidelines – like a zebra crossing. You may cross the road via that, or you can pole-vault to the other side, because how fun is that! And restriction only restrict those how are idiots enough to let themselves!' Or along these lines... Nobody can be too accurate, as it is not written down, only passed down from Mastermind to Initiate. May I add, that the whole Marauder Cult or Order or Religion, whatever, started only twenty-some years ago and operated under only one generation – the founders themselves, who are still alive – ever since? No. I won't say that out aloud, no! Anyhow...

The amused reminiscing was rudely interrupted by the glass, which was inserted into my grip by a grinning Dora. The rude part evaporated instantly. I grinned back and as one the four of us turned to the giant Zerda for some initiative. A toast or something maybe?

"Hharumphf!" said Zerda and threw his head back with the glass attached to his lips. Big people, small talks. Simple, easy. Why don't most of us like this way? In retrospect, he might have only sneezed... But it was a well-summarized, apt and proficiently delivered sneeze. Fudge could learn from him how to give year-evaluation speeches efficiently.

"Cheers!" us Englishmen said as one; and we too, downed the shot. It was revealing. It revealed that I have an esophagus, for I normally don't **feel** it. I just know – or pray at the least – that it's there. But this – Dora was very apt – molten courage, so to say, paved the path on my red lane. I felt the whole length of my gullet, and Holy Shit it was long! It was as if I walked bare feet along a still boiling stretch of asphalt. But look and ho, I did feel courageous in the end. Proud and burned and brave and dry. I did water up after all. And I didn't cry! That's... unmanly!

But Dora did not shed a tear. She gulped, the amber fluid disappeared, she pivoted, applying a funny expression, then belched one so huge, that not only our glasses quaked, but our teeth as well.

"Aaargh! That's the woman! I'm in love!" said Zerda, who was beside himself with joy, despite the fact that he lost the bet.

He right then, endeavoured to bully Dora into another round, but I was more occupied with my burning and dry throat. Relief came in the form of a leather bag-looking thing, which I recognized a moment later as a gourd. Without thinking, I lifted it above my mouth and swallowed greedily. It was water, so I swallowed a second one and 'Ahh!'-ed in content. The gourd belong to a very stern and reproving looking Leah, who took it back, no, tore it out from my hands back into her possession before I would get the chance to properly feel grateful. But again thanks to my awesome 'people-skills' – oh, and passive legilimency – I found longing in her eyes. Yes, longing. It wasn't quite there yet, at the time I recognized it. It might have been a ghost of an emotion, or maybe the remnant of a real one. But it definitely left the sensation of longing behind. And I caught that. A riddle for a later time to immense myself in.

"I think it was quite enough, Zerda. Our guests need to see my Master in a short time and they would be required to see only one image of him at the time. So a standard Tristram morning meal for four is in due and then we'll take our leave. Maybe tonight, if they are able. Thank you," said Leah in crisp urgency.

I was unnerving how this tiny – I said tiny, not scraggy, and from Zerda's perspective – girl could gain the upper hand on a giant, how easily she could dismiss him and how the living mountain caved under her gaze. Perhaps it would do me good to check my tongue whenever I address her in the future. This girl was mysteriously enigmatic! And those types were mystical! Plus, **riddles** are dangerous, I know that well...

We ended up in one corner around a circular table with semi-raw chunks of meat, cheese, unleavened bread and a big mug of strong milk as our meals – 'cept Leah, who ate... well, something else. A small bundle of... stuff... with some sauce... Please don't make me describe it any further - I would like to keep my appetite. At least she had fresh vegetables of all kind with that. All in all, I had the feeling that our food came - in one way or another, after refined, defined or left raw – from goats. No reason to be disgusted. We eat cattle and fowl. Same thing... almost.

After a few minutes of... uncertain tasting and trying of the food – I didn't want to say uncomfortable silence, because that would have been uncomfortable – I attempted to start a conversation with our matron. Heh, sounds silly! I bet she's a maiden yet, but in her quality here and now, she really was our matron. Okay, so...

"So... Leah? What exactly does this apprenticeship entail?"

She patiently chewed on her food, swallowed, targeted the next bite, stabbed it coolly on top of her fork, examined it closely, as if it was much more important than my question, then she answered.

"Everything and all you can imagine. And then some more!" was all she said before continuing the food consumption.

"That's... interesting!" I said searching for the word, but once I found it, I said it very jubilantly, turning to the others. Ulterior motive: engaging conversation. Sad news it was for me, that the two bloody Marauders were smirking into their mug, eyes down to hide the mirth in them. Gits. Dora was also very helpful with her 'yes, that's interesting, I'm listening' expression. The problem with it was only that she would not speak a thing, just listen. Up to me to infiltrate Azkaban, which was Leah's shell around her persona.

"Then how long will it take for you to complete it?" I asked, then – stealing from her book – started to eat earnestly, like the matter was of no importance to me at all. Too bad I ask questions about it. My 'I don't give a shit' indifference would be so much believable if I didn't.

"I won't complete it."

I was at the disadvantage there. Badly. So, to make my point, I pushed my dish aside, careful to make as much noise with the rattling cutlery as possible, so I could put down my elbows and rest my chin on my balled fists. The whole position make me lean a bit forward and thus making it visible that all my attention was hers. On offside note, it was curious how my food disappeared. I never knew I could eat that much so fast. Guess, a missed dinner, two fights, then a long talk with only light snack, finally a bit romance at night tends to make people ravenous.

So with my irritatingly full attention solely on Leah, I spoke up intently.

"Care to elaborate." Maybe I was a bit too sweet with my drawl. Well, we shall see...

She finished her last bits, chewed, swiped her mouth into the cloth that came with the trays of food, but she finally looked up straight into my eyes, assuming a similar position like mine.

"I won't finish my apprenticeship. So long as Master Cain lives. To learn the Horadric lore is of several lifetimes quest. I won't finish it. Not in this cycle, at least."

"I'm not sure I caught every part..." I said tentatively. I was completely lost, in truth. I heard her word, but comprehension eluded me. And she was a bit distracting. And I was a teenage boy. Sum up.

She sighed, but humoured me. "My life, even if it may span a century, will not be enough to learn every corners of the Horadric lore. It is the most extensive knowledge in existence. It is a lifestyle. Master Cain dedicated his life to learn it and he is still learning it. He is only a master because of two things. One, he has an apprentice, which gives him the title by default. Two, he is the last member of the Horadrim, so the eldest member naturally, thus a master, also by default. He himself doesn't like to be called Master – except only by myself evidently – but as he does have masteries in a few of the many arts encompassed within the lore, people call him Master Cain. His title is earned in every aspect, but in his own."

By the time she finished, all four of us were indulged in her words, even my previous ill-thoughts faded away into nothing. One thing, however, remained unclear.

"You said: 'Not in this cycle.' What does that mean?" I asked, and to my surprise, she answered right away. Maybe it was **her** surprise that I remembered her words so well.

"Existence is only a part of the cycle. But this cycle is in fact a spiral. Or a twisted spiral more like. One with more dimensions. A cycle period is similar to a common symbol, but one with a depth, not only width and length," she explained and to further specify and demonstrate her description, she took the string with which her 'meat-bundle' was tied with and arranged it on the tabletop in a unique way, so that it showed us a number eight laying on its side.

"Infinity," Remus muttered.

Leah nodded, but then gestured with her hand and the sign rose into the air. There, by the motion of her wrist, the infinity string stretched out like an accordion, showing exactly a dented-oval shaped and twisted spiral.

"This spiral is the path of your spirit, your soul. Each loop is one period of material existence in this plane. A life, you can say. After you perish, you return to the starting point, the Balance, the Origin... the Nothing. It won't be the same origin as it was last time, but it will be a new starting point, a new balance. See? If I pin an axis through here, the ends of the string will touch the line. If you see the spiral from the perspective of the origin of this axis, your infinity symbol can be seen."

"So, each time, you return to the Balance. There, nothing is. Everything isn't. Anything may be, but not quite there. Everything is in Nothing. Nothing is also encased in Everything, just in a more subtle way. Your soul and spirit dissolve into this Nothing, but as Anything and Everything can be in Nothing, you remain your own self in quality, you just cease to be... alone as in individual. Or material. You will become the part of a collective whole that was, is and will be your past, present and future self. The knowledge and experience of your past lives and your currently finished one will all merge. For you see, Nothing is the perfect Balance. It isn't too much on either side, yet it is too much on either side at the same time, equally. Gaze at the symbol! The Origin holds the two curves of the cycle at balance, it encompasses all the previous cycles and the current one too, yet it's merely a dot. There is everything compressed in there, yet there's nothing, but balance. Clear, so far?"

"You bring this foreknowledge into the new cycle, but unfortunately, locked away, hidden, dormant. It must be that way, for if it was not so, the whole purpose of the cycles would be in for naught. You wouldn't gain any new knowledge, you wouldn't learn, because you would relinquish in your sure base of wisdom and would enjoy your new life instead with false pretence of peace and security, even borderline arrogant in your abilities. Or maybe you would simply crumble under the weight of such knowledge; your mind would simply collapse..."

"For you see, every cycle has a purpose, a quest. As for what is that purpose? That's the main part of the quest exactly, to find out! Master Cain managed to recollect some of his foreknowledge from within his own subconscious. But he was wise enough at that time, so that he used that gained information with cadence to learn more and continue his quest."

After this, Leah stopped and looked into the empty space before her eyes. We all did the same in deep thoughts.

"That is a most peculiar approach to the whole life-afterlife debate, Miss DeSoto," Remus remarked.

"But this system presumes that there are a given number of souls to operate with, yes?" I said, in a rare moment when I put my mind into something and thought. I was good at maths back in the primary and logic was something inherent, which was raked up by Miss Logic herself. Who? I'll help. Bushy hair, bossy style, carrying a book. Always. Got it? Okay, name starts with Hermi, and there's only ONE in existence. Currently, at least, as now that we know the drill about cycles.

"That is correct."

"Then what about the newborn babies? Mere fifty years ago there were two point five billion people in the world. By now, it has doubled if not more. How is that possible with a fixed number of souls in the cycle?"

"You said it yourself: 'In the world.' Tell me... Ryk, where are you now?"

She got me with that fair and square. We were indeed in another world, or it seemed like another world. If that is true, my whole counter-reasoning can be thrown out of the window.

"I suppose she's right, kiddo. We are breathing the air of the evidence that multiple dimensions or worlds exist!"

"Rite. I was stupid. Please, go on, Leah!"

"There are a fixed number of souls in the cycle, or as you called it, system. It is almost uncountable in quantity. There is much. Enough for countless worlds. The reason why your world's population if expanding is because something grand and important enough will happen there and that causes a tension, which can be felt on different planes, like ripples or a resonance. And those vibrations lure the many souls there to participate in the happening. Here in Sanctuary, the populous boomed in this relatively lengthy peace period and in that before the conflict with the Primes. Now, there are almost three times more people living here, despite the terror, hate and destruction the Brothers brought here. The population is unevenly spread, mostly in the western kingdoms, and there especially in Westmarch. But the sheer amount indicates something big coming, the density of souls here marks something worthy of the attention of the Balance to tilt this way – and as it seems, your way as well. The scale in this case does not only have two arms..."

"How cool! At home, Apocalypse is at the doorstep. So we go on a little vacation here, only to find that we again are in the middle of some pan-galactic dipshit!" I lamented with every right. This was so unfair. And if facts confirm the shit we are in, so much better...

"I assume you are involved in the conflict back at your home?" Leah asked me calmly.

Sirius snorted, while I almost lashed out at her with my merciless fury, but I realized that I asked similar questions from Cain and even from Leah. So I would be a hypocrite asshole if I did. So instead, I relented and summarized the story of my life.

"Involved? The whole shit-stirring at home **revolves** around my person. And another bastard. It's hypothetically a one-on-one battle, a duel, but it expanded a little bit further with my luck. A Dark Lord is at large at my homeworld, who wants to gain power and control over the universe."

"Universe?"

"The whole world – our world -, everything and everybody. Or wipe out everybody. I sometimes do not comprehend the fellow entirely. He tried to kill me when I was a mere baby, one year old, all because of a blasted prophecy that said there will be a Chosen One, who's characteristics will be matched only by me and another child. The Star of Misfortune led him into my parents' manger where I, The Little Messiah, was laying in the crib, and then he murdered them. With me, however, something slipped and I survived an absolutely lethal, unblockable curse, which historical event must have been remembered and marked, so begot this scar on my forehead. His body was destroyed by the rebounded spell, but his soul survived. You see, he split his soul into seven pieces and trapped six of them into objects called Horcruxes – similar to the Soulstones -, so upon death, his soul can't pass into the Afterli... into Nothing. I had eleven 'peaceful' years growing up as a slave for my dear aunt and uncle and their son. But then, a letter I received, explaining that I was magical, changed everything."

I did a little dramatic pause here, to water my throat and breathe, and then I spun the tale along, noticing everyone's rapt attention. Even that of my lot. "I got whisked away into a castle-school in which the arts of magic were taught and I have been studying there for the past five years since. Each and every year I had to fight for my survival, because one way or another the Darn Lord or his spirit in someone else tried to kill me. I was forced to achieve such a feat, no child should have. I was forced to concentrate on stayin alive instead of doing homework, sports, playing, girls and other merriments of the youth in the alleged safest place in my homeworld... I have always been a pariah and that fact only changed a little with Sirius', this wonderful man's, and my other faithful friend's intervention..." I paused only to smile at my godfather and Uncle Werewolf and to look into Dora's eyes. Then I turned back to my intriguing, and very pretty audience.

"My life is a constant harsh lesson of fighting, duty and survival. The safest and most prestigious school in Britain – that's my home, a kingdom actually – should have provided me shelter and knowledge to cope with being me, The Messiah of the Magical World, and help me prepare for my inevitable fate. Instead, it gave only more pain, hardship, and no useful wisdom or training to become the ultimate weapon everybody – every last one of them – want me to be to rid the world of the evil arse-pit for them. They grab every chance to blacken my name, to ostracise me even further, to kick me on the ribs when I'm down, yet they expect me to save them..."

I trailed off not knowing where to continue, not knowing where I started, so I turned to this last trail and soldiered on, no longer caring if I rambled or even about what. By the Gods, did it feel good to let this out! Only just like coughing up the sticky rheum that irritated your pharynx for the last few years finally... Surprisingly acute and apt metaphor in truth.

And don't be surprised at my medicinal diction! The Grangers, for one, are dentists and friends of mine. And Ted Tonks is a field-healer with the MLE... And there are those interesting hospital series – Sirius is totally **infatuated** with cable TV!

"And you want to know the surprising, alarming and a bit sad truth? I intend to rid the world of the evil bastard! Not for them. No, sir! But for the handful of people, who mean everything for me. My family, my friends and my loves. I will save them and we will cherish the each other in our well earned peace. I'll let the rest of them rejoice, even let them claim the glory for all I care. I will have nothing to do with them effective immediately once my nemesis is dead. And I have every intention to kill him. Without remorse, mercy or hesitation. My tentative, naive, 'light'-sided, shielded childhood found a miserable end sometime long ago in the past. I no longer have any qualms about murdering the rotten, scaly son of a bitch! I am Harry fuckin' Potter, damn it all, I can do it, will do it! Hell, I'm famous for something I didn't do, but this time, I'll write my name into the books with my own blood soaked hands! That is a promise. But... But not until we are finished here with this much brighter business. We will help you fight your war, then we will go home. We have to! I have to... There must be a way..."

Everyone was silent, a fact for which I was grateful at the moment. Later I would muse on this, and especially as to why exactly I started to talk, no, ramble about my life, when I hardly ever did that, even rarer to a girl, and never to a girl I just met two days ago, so evidently someone I'm not supposed to trust, which otherwise would justify the reason behind telling – a reliable girl perspective often helps to better understand things. Maybe she bewitched me, or some equally paranoid ideas... I wonder if any of my adult companions realized this fact – that I talked about myself to a semi-stranger – because if they did, they didn't mention it at that time.

"I am sorry..." was all Leah said looking into the distance through a dirty window. The look on her face made it unclear to whom or to what she has just replied. To me, or to herself? Her face was oddly closed, yet so open and easy to read. It made her look human. Which was rather evident, but I had my suspicions earlier. But now, she was a girl about to be a woman, vulnerable, sensitive and tired. As I didn't picture her as a self-pitying person, it must have been the former, which was almost just as startling. But I have all too much experience about the fine art of self-lashing with the whips of hate, remorse, grief, pity and blame. So I could understood her, I believe, if she had a moment of egocentric cynicism or pessimism.

She stood up abruptly, almost visibly shaking herself out of something. "Now let's go quickly. We are almost late!"

We all complied sullenly. Thanks to me, the atmosphere was subdued once again! High-five, mate! No one challenged her saying we're late. The miniscule thing that no time was determined for the meeting eluded our woe-filled minds. Tonks walked beside me and held my hand, which was so nice and sweet of her. My unreasonably dark emotions and thoughts were gone like a fart in the spicy spring breeze by her touch. It was good to have compassion amidst the sea of contempt and the call of destiny.

My examination of the softness of Tonks' hand filled the time it took for our little platoon to reach the Cathedral.

* * *

"Master? Mistress Leah and the four travellers are here," announced Denek stopping and pivoting near the mouth of the open doorway leading into the nave that was Cain's domain. Yes, Denek, one of the stationary Cathedral guards, one of the pair, who so warmly welcomed us yesterday. He wouldn't look into either of our eyes. But he looked clearly apologetically at my chest. Dora had the nerve or big heart – point of view – to pat the head of the distressed soldier with an all-forgiving half-smile. I almost laughed out loud at Denek's expression after that. Sirius was less tactful and 'cried' over at Remus' shoulder, much to the werewolf's disdain, as it had nothing to do with pain or sadness.

"Come hither, my friends!" called Cain. We once again marvelled at the dark gothic beauty of the hall, which was dimly lit in spite the luminosity of the morning. "Sit down, you'd want to! We have much to discuss."

Once we were all comfortable – as much as one can feel comfortable sitting on a high-backed rigid wooden chair – and all our attentive gazes stilled on the ancient looking scholar, he nodded as if to himself and set off.

"You came here by accident I understand, and got involved in the delicate conflicts of this world not of your own. You, young Ryk son of James, selflessly and bravely, perhaps a little too rashly offered your invaluable assistance to our cause as the Master of the Shard. That is a matter that needs attention and refinement immediately. Time is something we cannot fathom how much we possess, so hurry is in due. You said you do not have any finesse, expertise or mastery in any weapons of physical combat yet, only in wand lore. We shall see that this field is covered and the lack is filled. In this matter, you also will need to seek out Charsi, the Master Blacksmith in the Rogue Monastery. Only she can forge the Shard into the tool of warfare of your choice and bind its full potential power to you. This is your primary objective, your first quest."

"Where is this Rogue Monastery, sir?" I asked when he reached a pause in his speech.

"The Rouge enclave is north-east from here, a day and a night on horseback. You may leave as soon as you want, but I'd recommend doing it as soon as you can."

I nodded after sharing a glance with my companions. Remus' nod, Sirius' shrug and Dora's supportive smile was all the consent I needed. "We'll make it first priority. Anything else?"

"All in due time, young champion. If you bother your mind with too much at one time, you will find your determination on the first aim wavering, straying onto other matters. One step at a time and you will walk your path surely and safely and may also see your further destinations, may understand riddles and problems in much more clarity."

"You are right, but I fear that this scenario is lost to me already. The situation of my homeworld haunts my mind even wide-awake, every time my mind may settle. This duality will most likely accompany my thoughts till both are solved, and the time of that is so far away that even my thoughts at the speed of imagination cannot reach it..." I said bitterly, but truthfully. I did think of home every moment when something associated with it befallen to my gaze. Like my companions, an owl, my wand, the Goat Hill tavern, Cain, Hell, like these... So we can say that almost constantly. Luckily I got distracted most of the time by said things as well, so after the sudden and sharp pain of regret and ever growing sense of failure, I was back in reality and present time. Oh, speaking of my companions...

"Master Cain, my friends most likely won't leave my side anytime soon, so it would do us good if they received the same kind of training as I will. That way we would be much more effective..." I ventured cautiously. For one, I didn't want to burden Cain with our lacking skills – one thing I start to see as a serious disadvantage not only in this cause, but in regards of our home situation. And I did not know if any of them had any past experience with melee weapons, a bit practice won't hurt. Well, not too much...

"Not a problem. And you are wise to think of it! We shall ensure you all receive proper training in your choice of weaponry."

"Thank you, sir. Okay, how do we proceed from here?"

"You can leave whenever you desire, though I would heed you not to waste much time, as that is the resource of essence, which would be unwise to consume without reason."

"We will leave first thing in the morning," decided Remus, who was sitting beside me from the left. "Though, we do not know the road."

"Fear not, Leah will accompany you to correspond as your guide and protector," Master Cain decided.

Leah's head snapped up at that and her mouth opened to say something – likely to argue judged from her rather unhappy expression -, but she thought better of it and closed it. She merely nodded with resigned determination.

"As you wish, Master..."

"Wonderful! Food and travelling equipment will be available for you to pick and take as well as horses from the town guard's stables and anything you desire form the armoury."

"Thank you," we said almost together. I kept the problem that I could not ride to myself for the time being. That was the matter of tomorrow. Or maybe I was just tired?

"It is only expectable and natural," Cain said, batting our need to be grateful aside. He then smiled eagerly at us. "Now, your quest is set out, would you like to stay awhile and listen to this old man sharing a bit of his mind, friends?"

I smirked as I was once again reminded of the alikeness of this old codger and our wizened Headmaster. However, where Cain liked to speak freely and indulge his audience in deep, descriptive details, Albus liked to speak in riddles and liked to place his listeners in a maze of mysteries and then watch them in amusement as they try to found the way to the light by their own devices.

Leah bid goodbye to us and disappeared to somewhere deep into Cathedral. I politely declined Cain's offer, as did Dora and Sirius. Remus however, being the Ravenclaw lost among the lions, accepted and stayed, telling us that he will meet us at the tavern for a late lunch or dinner.

So be it, old wolf! I will think and believe that this evasion was solely for the sake of learning the lore of this land and not an excuse to evade Dora's presence. Part of me said it's his loss; the other rather ignored that remark and stubbornly believed in Remus' academic enthusiasm to be genuine.

So the Black cousins and I walked leisurely out of the Cathedral and down the path from the sorry scene of Old Tristram to New Tristram. Don't let the adjectives deceive you. The new part wasn't a far cry better than the old one. Definitely not cleaner, just more intact, I guess. The buildings, shacks, cots, stands and other facilities were more or less stable and undamaged, if a bit rudimentary. The whole... settlement roared of tourism even if travellers were scarce and the streets panged of emptiness. However, there was a fair share of shady people scurrying back and fro. Businessmen and women sparred verbally over the quality dominance of their articles. There were all kinds of traders and merchants. Scoundrels, gamblers, mercenaries, historians, fortune-tellers and beggars. All kinds of people, but all the lowly and greedy.

There was one smithy on the outskirts in which we found sudden interest in. Well, Sirius did and we didn't want to leave him alone; he might do something stupid... We did encounter several good looking weapons in the gadget markets, but their presentation shouted fake. This smithy looked good enough and my godfather insisted on buying some kind of cold steel as protection besides our wands. And on the offhand, the mere spectacle of a sword hanging from our belts did wonders to the interaction and predisposition with these kinds of people. With them on our sides, we would cease to look like travelling traders or curious, foolish tourists and look like the warriors we were supposed to be.

Good reasoning altogether so Dora and I both conceded. We still had a bit of galleons to spend if we threw together our reserves. Though, our lack of knowledge on the local prices and the general value of gold here was something of a disadvantage for us. All we could do was to try hard not to look like the kind of people easy to fool and buy off. We did bartered on the price a little, but when the smith started to look quite angry with us, we agreed to his very final offer, which left us quite lighter from the weight of gold – overstated, of course, but our gold reserves dented significantly. In other words, we were poor at the moment. Pity that the Black and Potter fortune stayed behind the Veil... Now, we could have actually used it for something worthy.

We ended up purchasing two short swords with some magical properties each – of which the smith was uncertain about, telling us that the ores he forged them from had a distinct tingling touch to them, but that's all. And in truth they did tingle in my grip, the hair on the back of my neck stood on edge by the feeling and an unbidden image of a lightning tempest came before my mind's eyes as I inspected the shiny blade that reflected light with a pale golden hue. Something to do with lightning, I guessed. Dora said she shivered when she brandished hers, so that's cold. The blade had a distinct azure glimmer to it, which proved my guess. Sirius bought a brutal looking bastard sword, which only found enough space strapped onto his back. He wielded it with the smallest difficulty, but he insisted on buying it to himself, 'cos it looks so awesome... Gosh, we're heading into real fights, not fancy pureblood functions or balls, where representatives of ancient houses, like the Black, wore the hereditary swords of their families! They usually looked quite fancy, but utterly useless, due to their bluntness.

Albeit this bastard sword was useful, sharp and deadly even by the looks, it only became these things in the hands of an able warrior, who can wield it with ease and balance. Sirius' left hand was stronger than the right, so he might indeed have no problems with it as the blade required one 'and a half' hand to be effective. That's why it was called 'bastard' sword, for it was the 'child' of a one- and a two-hander out of marriage. And I have to admit and Dora agreed on it, that it did give Sirius a very intimidating 'tough guy' charisma. With his re-developed body – for he did nothing else during his free time, which was plenty due to his status as ex-con, but workout – showing nicely in that loose linen tunic and the vicious looking sword strapped onto his back, plus his now quite mangy, long, black hair, which fallen into his eyes... He looked like MacLeod the Highlander!

Sirius also bought two daggers for Remus, because he said that the werewolf did cool tricks with the letter-opener knives back at their times at school. Ah man, this will be difficult...

I just have to rely on my faith in my godfather.

Armed and dangerous, we continued our stroll through the town. It was like browsing through an alternative Diagon Alley, honestly. No, make it Knockturn Alley. I ended up sitting on a low stool in front of a wooden box, which was covered with a fine embroidered cloth. The place was an exotic 'restaurant' that sold exotic spices, drink and food and curious trinkets for souvenirs. It looked exactly like a esoteric drudgery from India, with the many incense that reeked the area with strong, spicy scents; and with the numerous light, silky draperies hanging from the open-air 'stalls' we were seated in, it surely created quite an atmosphere. Dora was off to somewhere trying out clothes. I never imagined she was this clothes-browsing, shopping person. I reckon I have to recreate my image of her in my mind. Or at least update it. On the other hand, we did need some clothes. Our own ones were a bit out of place here and the current set was too crude to wear all the time. And how could the errant boys and girl of Master Cain look like that? Like common peasants...

Is it just me, or you noticed too, that I developed a sudden, but significant care and attention to image and appearance?

So, we were sat on these low stools with my godfather and were working hard blowing cool air on our mugs, which contained some dark liquid that reminded me acutely to Turkish coffee. And by its description – invigorating, blood enriching, anti-depressant, a term I used, not the teller - it was some kind of caffeine after all.

"So, Harry, how's are things going with my cousin?" Sirius asked suddenly, just like that, out of blue. His act of bright, pleasant chatter, whilst having a good drink in a highly polished circle... Geez, man! But I guess, he really was a pureblood and they tend to know how to play these acts. But man, Sirius? Unnerving, that's the word!

"Whatever do you mean?" I asked nonchalantly, looking around coolly as if taking in the sites of the market area, all the while trying to mime his poise and the little mannerisms his hand did with the cup. Like the elegantly out-sticking pinkie-finger. But then, the swap was like...

**Switch!**

And there you go. He 'dropped' down the cup and he was Padfoot in his glory once again.

"Don't play on ignorance, kiddo. I'm an old fox in this department! I very clearly saw that kiss, back there in Hell... hell of a snog, son!" he grinned on his own weak pun. "Then, there was another at the Cathedral. And then something this morning in our tent. I might not have seen the actual deed, but I have a keen eye for this and I saw your faces. So tell me! Did you shag her?"

Yes, that was my godfather, Sirius 'Padfoot' Black for you. Famous for several things, one like his subtle finesse in pranking. Tell me if I'm wrong, but was this subtle to you?

"Sirius!" I gasped abashed. A play, and poorly delivered at that, because he just grinned.

"Don't be such a prude virgin! You aren't one. But all right, you haven't yet. I can see it. Well, kiddo, I say you go for it. Be selfish and get what you want. And admit it, you know you want her! Your biggest flaw is that you are too selfless..."

"I'm not-"

"Yes, you are. Shut up and listen! Don't forget yourself, Harry. Because if you do, you'll find yourself losing motivation to fight for others. You will find yourself alone, and then your thoughts can go haywire and imagine things that are untrue, like that everyone abandoned you, when you just pushed them away yourself, or that nobody understood you, when you just turned away from the world into your solitary shell. Don't deny the goodness of life from yourself, otherwise your stemmed desires will wither you. Solitude can fuck you up pretty well..."

Okay, sometimes Sirius has his moments. This was particularly a big truth. Something I still have a hard time admitting to myself. Gratefulness, success, compliments are the nourishments, which feed a hero. If he doesn't receive these things, he will find himself losing interest in helping others. My selflessness may be the case here, but Remus does deserve happiness. What was funny as well, was Sirius' quick acceptance, no, enthusiasm about this. Dora is his cousin... Or is it just me wanting him to be a bit more... ah, like Ron? Ron doesn't have a cousin, though... So the comparison wouldn't do any good.

"You might be right..."

"I am."

"Yeah, but she's mooning after someone else..." I said looking into his eyes for a brief moment with intent. I hope he caught my meaning. "We're just fooling around, helping each other channelling our frustrations..." Now, I'm painting the target on my own head. I just told him, that we are just playing... And playing with the fire – like love and passion and lust – is a dangerous thing. Man, as if I were talking to Ron... about Gin... Ah, damn, out crazy thoughts! That would be like... incense... Gin's my sister!

"I see... You know, I know you both." Okay, he's calm... good. But maybe not too good for my plans.... "This 'fooling around' won't work. Dora is a clinging one. She holds onto the things, which cause her happiness. People she likes and wants. And you too carve happiness. You both have been denied this feeling most of your lives. Now that you could have an opportunity, don't be stupid. Don't muck up your free chances intentionally. That goes against the laws of the art of love, you know..."

"I was under the impression that there were no rules about love..."

"Oh there aren't. All is fair in war and love, they say. It is true. But to think of it, there is one rule about love: 'You can't deny the call of nature, so don't even try!' Love is selfish. No, don't interrupt! It is selfish. Even if you want to give away love. What do you feel, when you cause great bliss to your partner, or anyone in general to whom you give your love? You must feel satisfaction; love itself; when you see their happy faces, you are happy too, right?. Now, don't think your urge to give love is a selfless act. You don't do it only for other's sole happiness! You do it for yourself, because the act of giving pleasure makes **you** feel good. And whenever did it **not** happen that you were in love with someone, and you saw that someone kissing another, you didn't feel the pang of jealousy? Love is egocentric, monogamous, demanding and possessive. You can love many, but you want that many to love you back. You only. At the very least the others of your love-span."

"I can love others... I don't have to resort to this one option only. Especially if the other carves the love of another, not mine..." I tried to argue. I had to. That was the right thing, right? Why did my heart wanted then to punch me in the guts and kick me **there** for my stupidity?

"As I said, she is a cringing one. She could easily fall in love with you in the interim..."

"That's what she said too... But what are we talking about? Love? There only lust, pure physical attraction only! I don't love her... Oh, no, I do love her, but I'm not **in** love with her. I just go hard whenever she is in my close proximity in those usual clothes of hers..."

"Lust... Love... Irrelevant. **Act** on it!"

"But why, if she wants another and not me?"

"You are blind, Harry. And naive." Sirius sighed, shaking his dark-maned head.

"Thanks!" I spat with distaste. I can stand critics, but if that was from my own godfather, it stung a little. Even if it carried more weight and truth than the others. Especially because of that.

"I only want to spare you from the heartache, you are about to bring onto yourself. And to show you that pleasure is essential maintaining sanity and good health!"

"But if I slept with her, it would only confuse her more, even hurt her. I don't want to cause her pain of any kind! Or him. Either of them..."

"So you instead torture yourself... I never would have guessed you were a masochist, Harry," Padfoot said with false-amusement.

"But if it's the right thing to-"

"Bullshit!"

"No, it's-"

"Listen, Harry! Would you forfeit something you like, what is yours, freely from now on?" he asked seriously. No pun this time. He looked very much the adult his age indicated. And he looked like he got some bright idea. One that started with this demand. "Give me the Shard!"

"What?"

"Give me the Shard! Make me its master. I want it. I'd be really upset if you don't give it to me..."

"You're just playing with me!"

"No. You would really hurt me. I'm inherently and firstly a Black. And **every** Black desire power first and foremost. I do too, just in another way. I won't take it from you by force, but it does pain me to see it in your possession." Either he could act unlike any stars of Hollywood, or he was speaking the truth. Frankly, my confidence in my knowing Sirius wavered.

"What? I... Huh?"

"Give me the Shard, Harry!"

"Ah, but I'm-"

"You're only fifteen. A kid, sorry, but these are the facts. Fighting with a wand is one thing. Wielding a sword is another. I'm already a trained swordsmen. Give it to me!"

"Sirius, that's not that simple. I became the-"

"And how's it that the Marauder's Map is in your trunk? You are not even a Marauder yet! I am, though. I want it back!" he demanded. I was seriously – no pun – scared. I've never seen him like this. Those silvery eyes turning a darker shade of grey under a deep frown. His facial muscles tense and dead stern.

"Sirius, what...? I, ah... Well, I guess this one's right. You are one of the makers of the map, so you really should have it..." Am I that capital fool to jump for that bait? Or was I forced? Bloody hell, I can't think logically!

"Harry, you disappoint me... Okay, I just made a few examples, but don't you see the pattern? What you are doing is exactly like this. Someone cries out in need, you jump to fulfil that need. By any means. Even if it means you forfeit something that is yours. Like with Fleur. Bill appeared and you stepped aside."

"That was not a serious relationship... Only a fling."

"So it was exactly a 'Sirius-relationship'..." he grinned, but it only lasted a second. "It did hurt you, though... Don't deny it, 'cos I remember you telling me it'd hurt you! Okay, a more difficult one: Slytherin! You declined the hat's offer. That house – despite my issues with it – really gives one power and a strong influential base. You could have been more powerful there; and I mean in student politics or national politics. Hell, even magical power-wise. But you forfeited that chance that would have benefited only you for the sake of your friends, Ron and Hermione."

"You know I also got a lot of bad influence making me stay away from Slytherin. Ron's opinion, Hagrid's comments on dark wizards and my parents, Malfoy's... well, being himself..."

"But the ultimate deciding factor was Ron, your first true friend, or potential first true friend at that time. You see now?"

"I see, but you know my keen sense of right, yes? Helping Dora and the... third party finding each other is the right thing."

"I can honestly say, that this is only your point of view and that you're alone with this opinion. Neither Dora nor I, and I guess the 'third party' thinks it would be the right thing."

"Well, thanks for the insight. I think I can solve this problem step by step and can decide what path to follow myself..."

"You're doing the same thing again... I want to help you, make you benefit from something, and see? You're pushing away this, because it would do you good. Unhealthy, Harry, that's what it is!"

"I consider this conversation closed, Sirius!" I said in a tone of finality. "Please, don't stuff my head with any more wise observations. We have more urgent things to do anyways."

Sirius regarded me with a bit sad, a bit disappointed, you know, that irritating look your guardians like to plaster onto their faces when you misbehave. But then, he just smirked with the deviousness of the Marauders, which promptly threw me off guard, just as his next remark.

"You sounded just like Leah there..."

The implied layered meaning wasn't lost to me. Her morning behaviour, Dora's comment about a 'cure', her description of her 'job' and the Horadric lore, her duty-oriented mind and keen sense of right and the longing in her eyes this morning... Holy excrement! Have I been just that bad moments before? Or am I that bad all the time?

"I bet she had a troublesome childhood too. I mean mainly love-deprivation, neglect or even abuse. Disregard is certain, and punishment for disobedience. You found your parallel here, kiddo... Be sure that you shape her into someone like you and not the other way around. You reacted better to your past trials than her, I think..."

I didn't say a thing, just stared at him – no, not with open mouth and saucer-eyes, that's silly – and realized his truth once again. We shared a common and very strong sense of duty and judgement. I know, self-proclaimed judgement is something reserved for gods, demi-gods, divine heroes, Dumbledore and Riddle. But I pride myself in my ability to see right and wrong apart. I have reference backing me up that my sense is authentic and acute. Though, it was not the most striking similarity, it was our response to the call of duty. I cannot say more common or differing features about us, because I don't know her that well yet. But this one is definitely there, and the light in her eyes when she chants about it is just like mine. As is the dim dullness, when she spoke about something in the past, or in an unguarded moment, when her veneer peels off.

Okay, my mind fried, I cannot think properly. Speaking of proper, the thing Dora probably did just now was not the lexical description of proper... Even if what she overheard, at least partially, involved her.

"You can come here now, Dora..."

My calm request startled both of them. Sirius looked behind himself and saw a sheepish looking Tonks stepping out from behind a drapery. I just shook my head and sighed. I don't even start to describe the maelstrom of thoughts that was raging across the inside of my mindscape right now. Dora's appearance was just oil to the fire.

"All...rite. Let's pretend I just arrived," said Dora, blushing hard. I strangely did not mind her eavesdropping. It concerned her too. And we did talk about her behind her back. Even if it was all good. "Where do we go next?"

"Are you finished shopping?"

"Hm? Yes... Yeah," nodded Dora absently. She was looking with a hard gaze into her cousin's eyes, while he looked back resolutely. Some kind of Black communication, I'm sure...

"Let's head back then to the tavern. It's quite late. Due time for a late lunch... or early dinner," I decided, still deep in thoughts. I stood and without looking back or waiting for the Black cousins, I set off.

* * *

"Thank you! These are quite... thoughtful gifts. And sharp!" said Remus with gratitude, when Sirius presented him with his daggers as a dessert at the tavern after our evening-lunch was consumed. "You still think I can handle these?"

"Hey, the scene with the letter-cutters burned into my mind quite acutely... Yes, I'm positive! Just don't practice if I'm around in the area..."

Remus grinned. "I'll keep that in mind! Thanks, Paddy..."

"Don't call me-"

"What?" Remus interrupted innocently. But the grin on his face and the way he casually twirled the daggers between his fingers were anything but.

Sirius turned to me with a disdained expression. "We shouldn't have bought these for him!" I only looked back, deadpan, meaning 'It was your genius idea...'

"So, how was your little chat with Cain?" Dora asked the werewolf attempting to change the subject. She succeeded soundly. Or was it her charming smile and the sea-moss-green curly hair she was spinning around her finger? Ah, Tonks! You are so confusing!

"Oh, it was fantastic! He told me so much! Mostly about the heroes of the past conflict. The seven mortal heroes, who stood up, fought and defeated the Prime Evils!" Remus enthused with his 'I learned something new!' glint within his irises.

"Go on!" I prompted. This was a topic that perked my interest too. My theory about this whole mess involved those seven as well. And on top of that, it distracted me from **her.**

"Well there were seven of them each from a different faction, adept in a different branch of magic or combat. A really effective squad in every situation, they were. The assassin scouted the ground before them using her sneaky stealth skills and set traps for the monsters. And she killed the boss-figures or leaders of the demonic armies firstly. The amazon perched on something high off the ground to have a good vintage point and with her bow she got the assassin's back. She also scanned the area with her acute eyesight and some true-sight spell, but she also was an invaluable asset in stand-up fights."

"While those two were the vanguards, there were two real dreadnaughts, who rushed down the enemy encountered. The barbarian, like our bartender, Zerda, equipped with a huge and deadly battleaxe, used brutal force to cleave the demons in half or stomp the ground to stun them and his battle-cries reverberated even in the endless void of the Burning Hells. The other frontline soldier was a holy warrior, a paladin from the Zakarum order with his magical charged zealous sword-attacks. His reckless charges behind his enduring tower shield straight into the middle of an enemy group were awe-inspiring. His unquenchable faith and resolve boosted the others as well, as if he had a rallying aura." He paused only to wet his throat with his ale, then onwards he fared us.

"There was the druid, who was kind of multi-purpose person. In his animal forms, the bear and the wolf – as he is a shapeshifter – he was an effective front line warrior; in his human form, he did a supportive role with his destructive elemental spells of earth, wind and fire. He also summoned spiritual companions to aid them. In the mid-field the two more magic-oriented heroes were situated. The sorceress, who used her staff to unleash the forces of the elements: fire, ice, lightning, air, earth, suchlike. She was the representative of the Vizjerei order of mages. And the final one, the necromancer, who cursed their foes from the distance to weaken them, to tire them, to make them quiver in fear or simply to kill them slowly. And what's more, he raised their fallen enemies to serve the seven in their fights against their own living comrades, thus adding to their numbers. His offensive magic constituted of bone-magic, whatever it is. I could not question Master Cain any further about that topic. But all in all and summing it up, they were a truly remarkable team! Our Aurors should learn from them concerning teamwork..."

"Interesting..." I muttered again deep in thoughts. Or I think in deep thoughts. My mind-work was a bit erratic present time. It would be high time to use my muscles instead. Brainstorming and using logic was useful and essential, but I was growing restless. Right now, though, Remus' description caught my attention and I tried to apply it, merge it to my theories.

"Bloody capable fighters if you ask me..." Sirius commented too. "The fact alone – and a fact quite unbelievable - that the Prime Pounces are dead by their hands sings their worth!"

"You will most likely meet them in person. At least you should hope so..." Remus remarked with an enigmatic smile. I so wish that he lay off the Dumbledore-style and start talking like Master Cain – a lot about a lot of things with a lot of details.

"What? Why? When? Oh, man! I mean... What are you talking about?" Yes, now this was a state of Sirius that was unique to him. It's called 'Ecstatic Perplexity'. There's no cure, but fortunately it's not contagious...

"Our next quest after the Shard-task, will be to track down these heroes and convince them to fight once more for the people of Sanctuary. The Greater Good, eh? We have to find them, recruit them and bring them to the assembly point. To Tristram, to the Cathedral, to Cain."

The three of us newly informed shared a glance.

"Great..." Sirius scoffed, his earlier rush disappeared.

"Don't sulk. We volunteered, remember?" I reminded him. Well, okay, **I** volunteered. But if we want to go home anytime soon, we have to help. Seven trips, seven destinations, seven session of persuasions, seven survivors, twenty years past hence they were under the same banner, rumours of insanity surrounded the survivors of the Sin wars. I wonder how many would be still capable or sane or even alive for that matter. Cain said he met one of them half a decade back and that one admitted to still having vivid nightmares and even few hallucinations about their battles with the Envoys of Hell. I can concur. But he was speaking in third person about himself... And for another matter, which I asked out aloud!

"And how are we supposed to 'convince' them? We find one, approach them and say like: 'Hi, we're us! Cain sent us to invite you to a little nostalgic party with drinks and music at the Cathedral of Tristram. Are you free?' But ignoring the speech part, think about it for a mo! A scrawny boy..." I gestured over my not that scrawny form. "A shabby bookworm..." I pointed at Remus. "A clumsy punk-chick..." I motioned at Dora. "And..." I looked over at Sirius, waving my hand at his lankly figure, searching for words. "And... you..."

Padfoot reverted back to ordinary, normal confusion.

"So this four **peculiar individual** stumble upon said hero or heroine with the urgent message conveying that they are to return to ground zero immediately, because this great big peace is suspicious and Cain's lucky-bone is itching. They are to follow us... remember my description from earlier... blindly back. People, we are lacking the clincher that could convince them!"

"Harry, remember what Master Cain said: 'If you bother your mind too much, you'll find your aim blurring and fading...' Let's just concentrate on the Shard and plan out the hero-seeking quest after it, shall we?" Remus suggested.

And we concurred. Remus excused himself, blaming tiredness and uneasiness due to the lacking knowledge about this world's astronomy – mainly about one particular factor vital in his condition - and retreated back to the tent to rest, so that left the three of us again. To think of it, I saw the half moon yesterday, all right, but I recall that a tiny little crescent loomed above the Cathedral. I thought it was just the trick of light back then, but could it be another, a second moon? It would complicate matter spectacularly...

Dora looked like she really wanted to go after him, but all it took was one glance back at my expectant face searching hers from the bar-counter where I sat with my drink, and she stayed. She stayed and I refused to let her sulk and feel bad or sad. One thing at the time! Now was the time to let ourselves go! With cadence, of course, as we'd set off early tomorrow.

I didn't have to tell Sirius, he knew the drill and started it as soon as we finished our dinner. No, even during that! Now, he was afloat all right by the intoxicating liquids he digested and was currently dancing on top of a table with a local... judged by her 'attire'... joy-girl. She wasn't too bad, but all too... large and dangling for my liking, if you catch my meaning. And I wasn't that type of a bloke.

I took a sip from the strong spirit in my glass and sighed in momentary content. Times like this, a hero could easily forget his sense of duty and his need to worry and do something, anything. Or just to think about the looming shadow of the future uncertain. How very apt and incredulous that I found a sanctuary from my destiny and darkish thoughts of home in a déjà vu-tavern in Sanctuary...

One thing was missing, though.

I fished inside my coarse linen overcoat for my pack of cigarettes and plucked one stick into my mouth. But the second required ingredient to initiate actual smoking was still amiss from my arsenal. Damned fire... I turned around to ask a patron for some device that produced open flame, but I was started to find myself nose-to-nose with an old lady in purple robes. I think I saw her before, during our breakfast in the morning.

"You are the Clayshaper, Harbinger of the Tempest..." she said in a whispery, but raw voice apparently lacking frequent usage.

Yippee! I found Trelawney's older sister in an alternate world! What can I say? I'm lucky...

"And good evening to you too, madam!"

"Careful must be you, when the shooting star from the Heavens rouse you to make wish! Careful be you must, when you make that wish! For wishes of the lost ones are heard by the attentive, who are sitting on their furtive thrones from where they judge the sheep. But sheep in their own right too they are, yes, they are too! Wolves in suits spun from the clothes of sheep. Be wary of the sheep, you may find them vicious! Be wary of wolves, you may find them devout and alluring, but still wolves they remain to be!"

Now, that was... What the fuck was that? I mean... Huh? Have I just heard a prophecy? Or a warning from the future? Or... Dora morphed and is pulling a prank on me!

"Chose you will have to! Chose the path that walk you will. They are many, but one in purpose. And you will sacrifice on each. You'll suffer on either. But the 'how' is what the difference will be. Careful with your wish be you must, Harbinger! Wish you will have to indeed!"

Insinuatingly incomprhensibly incredible! What do you reckon, I can say to this?

"Do you have fire?" was my choice.

All right, probably not the best option... But be the cool guy, when a mysterious, old lady divines your future again, even in a totally different universe... I'm beginning to be very freakin annoyed with prophecies revolving around my person! I'm just a teenage boy, don't you get it?

Damn it all to the Burning Bloody Hell!

Smoke is what I will do!

Provided I find fire...

* * *

A/N: First and foremost, thank you all for your supportive reviews. It feels great that something you create is appreciated. I will make it first priority to improve, but at least keep up the level you now could expect from me. I hate to cause disappointment.

So I hope that this chapter won't do that. Longest so far. And I know it lacks the much anticipated action – again. But one thing I want to avoid by miles is to rush it and thus make a mush of this story.

Harry and co. are reaching the checkpoint in the plot-line nicely, the tension is slowly building in a way that starts to become my favourite, like: Nothing at all happens and you'd say 'C'mon! We're bored! Where's the action?' and then, when I adequately lulled you enough... WHAMM! There's the action! Sudden, so expected, that it's unexpected, quick and cruel!

So don't expect a 'WHAMM!' and then, you will hopefully (I hope not) receive a cardiac arrest. If you expect it, you'll just simply jump in surprise.

Okay, seriously. The pace will catch up soon, now that they have tasks to do and plans to execute. But as it's Harry, who we're speaking of... Trouble! That's what will come in the end. So stay in tune, please. Your diabolic hack n' slash, chop 'em, crush 'em, blow 'em, shot 'em, stomp on 'em, curse the hell out of 'em action-gameplay-feeling is coming soon! You don't even need a mouse! Just your eyes and wild imagination! :)

I would ask you to guess who the 'prophesising' old, purple lady was at the end... but it's too obvious. And before you start, she's OLD and who says only the heroes can be driven to borderline insanity by the events? So yes, she's nutters. Like I said, Trelawney's older sister :D

Again, thanks for the reviews and fav, alert and C2 markings! Thanks a lot!

I'll keep writing, you'll keep reviewing and we'll be good pals, I'm positive...

See you,

PSB


	5. Falling

**Harry Potter and the Great Conflict**

_« Written by PSBlasius »_

Disclaimer: Copyrights © JKRowling and © Blizzard Entertainment. If I were the owner of Harry Potter™ and Diablo™, then I would not write here for free. No, I most likely would, for fun.

**----Author's Notes----**

Sorry for the not so small delay, people. How do they say? Ah,I was... super-busy. But the project will carry on! Like right now with chapter five, which is the longest so far, if I'm not mistaken. It will introduce a new character to the story, a character, which might be familiar to those who played with the second instalment of the Diablo games. Last 'all-talk' chapter, I promise. The plot-unfolding will begin abruptly, like... fireworks! And the awaited action-pack hacking and slashing will follow up next! *wink*

But enough of the spoil,  
Or else it may ruin my toil.  
Thank you for your time and choice,  
Enjoy!

**----Author's Notes----**

Chapter Five – Falling

"No way! Ye can't do it!"

"Ha! Wanna bet on it, old bean?"

"Nah! A gennlemmin—gentleman does not make a sure bet!"

"Have it yer way, then! But ye ain't gonna see any miracle tonight, Paddy..."

"Okay! Lasses and gentsies, kindly steer your attention to this lad o'er here! He's gonna blow a rectangle-shaped cloud of smoke out of his big mouth! Watch closely, for he's the only man alive in the pan-dimensions who can do this! A true miracle!"

Way to go, Tonksie! We've an audience! I'll be famous! I'll show ye, Siriuous! I'll show you good! And lookie-look at that! These folks are full of cash! They pay to see me puff a stupid cube of smoke with me orifice! How... touching.

"Righteous! The bets are placed... Now—what now? Oh, yeah! Now, you can start, _Master_ Rico!" Dora was saying this to me like that.

O'righty, then! Let's perform for the sheep! Sheep, like that creepy old hag'd say! Sheep! Behehe... Hah, the fools don't have a clue that all it takes is magic! Ye just ask the smoke to **obey**! Like real macho style! You demand it firm n' proper to get into a pose and stay that way! It's not overly much too hard a thing to burp a squ--skwere out of yourself, eh? 'Fcourse not. That, and I've got the powah!

So I concert-ate—concentrated, felt the tickle of me arcane awesomeness. The blur's coming! The blur is good. The blur is proper. I saw no one, not a thing. Oh, it tickled me lips so bad!

Hehe! Everyone was watching me like a circus... ah, circus-member-fellow, whatnot. I'd have liked to tell 'em, like: 'Hey, I'm just smoking, pals! Havent'cha seen a man smokin' yet? I bet'cha did not see anything like this!' But I didn't tell 'em, because I forgot to, I think. Oh-oh-ohh crap! It'd be sooo much easier if I wasn't sooo drunk...

Anyhow. I inhaled the mist from the tip of the stick, right. I rinsed it in me magical mouth to mix it with the occult goodness. Done. And finally--

"Pah!" said I and the fog just hovered into my vision and past it into the sunset. Wait, no sunset. It was a lantern. Man! Totally had me all confused, that lamp did! Point is that the smoke came, all right.

Oh, they gasped and gaped like all of fish-kin's bests! Wow, was I a little good or little bit even more awe-inspire...ing, eh?

Wait, though! Somethin' was not all too right! It was like, hm. One, two, th-fo-five... Six! Could a six-edged cube be called a square? Or what's it's called? Hex Egon! Agon. Ah, bloody geometry...

"Hah! You lost, kiddo!" Sirius told me with his big, stupid grin of smugness.

"I most certainly didn't! Look, it's even so much better than a crappy square! It's... more advanced!" I told him good.

"Nevertheless, it's not a square. The wager was about a shape having _four_ sides and angles. Six happens to be six in all universes. So the verdict: epic fail!"

"Ye know, its'just the matter of perspective. But I'll show you not the second, but the third power! A cube! Watch it, I feel it comin'!"

Come on, mate! You can do it! Concentrate! Inhale. Good! Command the smoke: cube, damn you! Freakin cube, d'ya hear me? The Force is with me! Go!

"Pah!" I said again. The smoke rushed out again. And this time: "HA! There's your four-angled, convex, geometrical, rect-angular goodness presented only to you, only tonight by mightily humble myselfness! Pay time, doggy!"

They 'aww'-ed again! They loved me! And I've shown Sirius not to mess with the big, bad, cube-puffing Sorceror!

"Observe and be awed! The Cycle's only square-shaped smoke-circle creator has given us his masterpiece! In 3D!" Tonks was saying grandly to me audianceses.

Ah, the sexy Dora—Doras! I wanted to snog 'em cubed!

"Dora, my nymph! I love you! Both of you! Come hither, I wanna get acquainted with your tonsils!" I told them with a silly grin. She were so beauteous, that her prettiness could not be stuffed into just a single body. So there were two of them instead. Oh, goodness, I've never been with two women before! And she's twins!

"Calm down, Wonder-boy! And a little further away, please. You're reeking of ale... and cheap tobacco. Are you all right by the way?"

So caring and sweet! Ooh, I loved 'em!

"Distinctively positive, my babies, be assured! I'm all hyped! Come on now, let's dance! Shake your asses! Yeah!" So I can feel up your nice round asses! Oh, I did not say it aloud, did I? Or I did, did I not, for they laughed together! And so nicely! Like a chime...

"There's no music playin, Harry!" they sang happily.

"There isn't, is there? Unacceptable! Sirius, the most perfect of all me godfathers, ever! Do sing for us!"

"No way in hell!" was all he said. Hell? Hehe!

"But there is! We did find the way from down there..." I explained to him, as it was a matter of fact. In fact, it was.

"What?"

"We came from hell, Padsy! There **IS** a way!"

"Don't call me that and I ain't gonna sing!" he told me in his sulky-doggy tone.

"You don't have to pay me if you sing?"

"Nope."

"Next round on me?"

"Nay."

"I'll scratch your belly for an hour while you're Padders!"

"Deal!" he grinned. There you went! Everyone had a weak point, a surface to attack; ye just had to find it. Sirius possessed some strange sort of infatuation with his canine-self – a 'thing' I've never wasted the time on to comprehend.

My magical Godfather then pulled out a whole, full-sized guitar from his pocket – it might be collapsible, or the feat involved magic – and began singing an Irish song of delirious merriment.

Wait a minute! I suddenly realized that I wasn't that drunk anymore. I looked over at Dora – now the one and only, her twin having disappeared - and found her grinning in the middle of sheathing her wand not very subtly. On my demandingly quirked eyebrow, she just shrugged.

"Go and wash up! Tussled, reeking drunks really don't hit my fancy."

Which was probably a good thing. I too could smell my own eau de rum, so I was totally on agreement with her. Sirius meanwhile begun playing and I started to dance my way towards the counter with a persistent grin plastered on my face.

It was the same Irish song that could always be heard in some form or fashion in our favorite pub back in London. It was conveniently an Irish pub and despite that neither of us were Irish, we were still welcomed – and after a little time, renowned. It helped that my eyes were green and that Sirius had a four-leaf tattoo on his left forearm – prison-tattoo which he got for being lucky in a gambling game for inmates, as he explained. The gambling involved a slice of cloth, something nasty, good timing and patrolling dementors... Don't ask! I didn't either. And I don't plan to.

So this little tune was ever-present in our pub – playing from the jukebox, coming from the radio, someone singing it or playing it on a musical instrument or even whistling it. Good thing it was a good, melodious and catchy tune; it didn't get old.

Padfoot's Pad – our HQ and 'Den of Sweet Sins' as he liked to call it – was above the pub. That was our lovely home. It was a huge apartment situated in the corner of the block of flats - an old building with art-deco style interior apparently. Being quite under-informed on the subject of arts and interior building, I could only appreciate the huge open rooms and the spacey, circular balcony protruding from the corner. It was way too cool! Overlooking the City – you could watch the everyday muggle crowd trashing by underneath your gaze. It was like watching people from the Heavens. And during episodes of overenthusiastic self-assurance – 'Jerk-James flavored déjà vu', as Sirius liked to call them -, I felt like a god watching my creations. Yeah, ego-period **and** heavy alcohol consumption. But I **am** **not** a drunkard. I just tend to go overboard those few times I happen to night-out in a pub. Yes, sometimes even I felt this explanation lacking, so then I reasoned with this: I am the Chosen One, who have to **murder** a kickass powerful, experienced, evil-to-the-core, dark wizard. I'm near sixteen, he'll be seventy, come December's end. He's a sociopath, I'm simply social. He's... bald, yet I am bold. And I can utilize our shared talent, Parseltongue in much more creative ways. So, I consider myself justified to occasionally throw the wand in, sign off and have fun. Besides, one has to learn where one's limits are. I haven't passed out yet from too much juice – one of my unofficial achievements. I sure won't include this fact in my resume, though.

Ah, good times! It was like another life entirely: with Sirius and me the only ones there alone – I'm not counting our, well, mainly **his** occasional nightly "entertainment". We were away from the magical influence, but not fully part of the muggle existence either. Sirius took up the task personally to shape me into a mature – in his dictionary: mature meant the responsible, but adequately wicked expert of women, wand and pranks –, happy-go-lucky rogue. One stage of this process was the pub, where nearly all aspects of this 'maturity' could be observed and practiced - except the wand bit, well, not too openly at the least.

Oh, good times, wonderful times...

And I'm fully aware that Sirius had a massive influence on me. One can argue whether it was bad or worse. In retrospect, I'm certain it was for the better bad. I evolved, changed for the better by being no so good. For I'm not so sure I could have taken some of the obstacles life-slash-fate hurled before my path being my 'old self'. With a 'sirius' attitude, I'm more resilient to the shit that hits the fan - a fan held by the Hand of Fate in front of me constantly, wherever I go.

However, if I don't freshen myself up now, I won't be having any 'good times' with Dora here at all. And that was set to be the main quest for tonight. And Harry Potter does not fail in his quests! Well, not anymore, freshly counting again from the one huge failure of not being in the proper universe to save it. But hey, I get to save another one, and this job I voluntarily pick as a side-quest... so maybe I will get bonus karma-points, right?

Right.

"Heyo, Zerda! Get me a glass of water, will you?" I said to the big barbarian bartender once I successfully arrived to the counter. His face was flushed and a permanent grin threatened to split his mouth in two, it was so stretched. All these marks neatly indicated the obvious: that he was well afloat with ale. Remarkable, that his balance and coordination – with which he manipulated the dirty glasses between his cloth-covered peels of hands – was as impeccable as when he was sober.

"Water?"

"Water."

"You wanna drink water?"

"Yes."

"Why d'ya wanna drink water?"

"Because I'm thirsty—?"

"You thirsty, you drink ale! Mead if you're a pussy... Water is for the squeamish sorcerers to soak their pale arses in!" he roared with his thundering laughter, several patrons near joined in to the cacophony.

"Well, I'm a kind of sorcerer..."

"And are you of the squeamish pussy type?" he asked disbelievingly. That was flattering actually. It was always a high compliment for me, when a battle-scarred, badass-huge, berserker barbarian gave you the benefit of doubt that you might actually not be a squeamish pussy...

"Not since I last checked."

"Then what's with the water?"

"Let me clarify: I'm a bit **drunk**, not-squeamish, anything-but-a-pussy sorcerer, who wants to sober up, unless said non-squeamish-not-a-pussy sorcerer wants to pass up his mind-bogglingly-gorgeous girlfriend's pleasure promising proposal," I said with irritation, having lost my patience with the bear-like giant. He was funny and kind, but my urge to be with Dora was greater than my tolerance for verbal sparring. Couldn't help the rhymes, though!

"Ahh... Woman business! Why didn't you start with dat?" he asked as realization dawned on him. He looked a little up, behind me and I guessed he was watching Dora.

"Why the hack else would I want to sober up in the middle of the parade?"

"I didn't know you wanted to sober up!" he muttered defiantly, still not looking at me.

"I've already told—ARGH! Just gimme a cuppa water already!"

He finally averted his attention back at me and grinned even more, which was truly an incredible feat, despite also being very disturbing. "I don't have water here. Go outside and put your big face into the horse's drinking trough!"

The patrons around us cracked up with laughter again. I glared as murderously as I was able to and gritted my teeth to hold back the snap. My survival-instinct learned to overlap my foolishly hasty and big mouth. It would not do any good if I taunted Zerda into something that would probably end with the dissonant accord of my bones being crushed. So I decided that a minor prank as revenge was as good a venue to follow as any. It would be hilarious and nothing serious. I whipped my want out with the speed of the thing my scar looked like and launched a nonchalant, nonverbal, non-harmful little charm.

In result, a brightly fluorescent, vivid lime-green Mohawk spouted out from his bald scalp.

There was a suspending moment of silence and wary breath-holding. Zerda froze and slowly lifted a hand to his new hairdo. His fingers brushed its top and then he whipped around to face me. I already conjured a big mirror for him, behind which I was smiling just a tab bit too smugly. Or perhaps it was just the result of my tightly clasped jaw, so my teeth wouldn't rattle as fear shook me with the thought: 'What have I done again?'

He looked at the mirror, than at me and finally snapped his head back to howl with laughter. Everyone was soon to start yowling with mirth again and I slipped out of the ring of suffocating people unseen, heading outside.

The pre-dawn air was a little cooler tonight, the crickets chirped relentlessly around, the noise of merrymaking danced from the tavern and a few dog-barks sounded from the distance. Into this nice little setting I walked out, and immediately spotted a stone well in the middle of the 'courtyard' that looked promising to yield me some refreshment. I stopped at its side and leaned over the edge to glance into its pit. It was looked darker than deeper - I mean it was probably not that deep to look so deep, yet it did. Still not clear? Yeah, I didn't get it either. It had an aura. Like it was luring and repulsing as well.

Shrugging mentally, I reached for the reel and with a little effort, began to pull the bucket up. The wooden shaft groaned as the thick rope coiled around its girth tightly. It sounded like the wail of an agonizing man in that situation. Was it distorted by the chilling hollow of the deep well that beckoned and nauseated me at the same time? I tried to swallow, but my throat was very much unlike this moist and mouldy fount. When I started to lose hope that the bucket was ever going to surface, it did. And I almost had the chance to sigh in relief. Almost.

It was too dark yet to see the bucket or its content perfectly, but the unnerving scent that slithered into my nose caused me to pause. My wand came readily to my awaiting grip and the whispered _lumos_ revealed the reason of the unnerving smell. The bucket was rotten and covered in some gruesome goo. The water in it was fluid-like, not some vile syrup that would have made the bucket look like it did. But the water was oddly black. Even with the harsh mage-light coming from my wand, it didn't reflect like 'normal' water should have. It was eerily black, like liquefied death, but a flimsy, faint-green sheen appeared to emanate from it.

My lips twisted in primal revulsion and my stomach followed suit. I released my grip on the reel and let the bucket descend back rapidly into the deep. The contents of my stomach lunged to follow after it momentarily.

When the reflex that had me heaving ceased, I turned and leaned with weak legs against the side of the well, panting.

"Urghh..." was my only follow-up commentary.

Honest to Goodness, that smell reminded me of death. Rotting, bloody, gory death. I shivered.

But good relief! I spotted that drinking-trough Zerda was talking about. It was near the fence to which three horses were tied to currently. I swiftly moved towards it, eager to get away from the well. It frankly scared me out of my shit. Oh, well... you know.

One of the horses looked up at me and snorted in sympathy, almost as if it could smell the stench as well and likely have smelled for awhile. I patted its neck and ducked under it to crouch beside the trough. It seemed that I left my luck someplace else, probably in England, because the water in the trough was stale. Even the faint memory of thirst left me now, no matter if the green algae in the water wouldn't have minded lending me their 'accommodation'.

I growled angrily at the trough as if my fury could purify it. But then, I realized that it could. Returning my snort of sympathy to the horse I swished my wand and chanted a forceful _Evanescso_ at the water. The happy-ignorant alga colony, along with their 'dwelling' vanished, gone to the next great adventure, leaving behind the dirty, gooey wood. After a thorough _Scurgify,_ the trough looked better than new and I quickly filled it with fresh conjured water. The horses neighed in grateful approval.

I sighed. Let's not be so uptight and chose to easier way! I raised my wand above me and repeated the _Aguamenti_ spell. Chilling distilled water poured on me, drenching me in a blink. It **was** refreshing, though a bit cold as the early morning breeze touched my wet clothes. I 'bathed' quickly, rinsed my mouth, dried up in a minute and stood to take a short stroll in the cool air.

And, as it often was the purpose of lone strolls at night, I mused.

Problems always found me. Trouble was Problem's best mate or maybe lover, as they tended to come hand in hand or in embrace. This fact didn't make me any special; everyone had problems, anyone could get into trouble. It was just that **my** Problems tended to include fates – not just people's, but that of culture's too. And **my** troubles nearly every time involved mortal danger. Remembering Leah's explanation about this soul-cycle, it would be safe to state that a cosmic target was painted on my forehead.

Was it general, a universal law for accidentally-made-heroes to attract danger no matter where, when and how? Maybe yes, maybe no. But it **was** universal fact that heroes didn't turn their back on those dangers. I don't count myself a hero and in spite that I also am incapable of letting others fight and suffer in my place - which behavior automatically nominates me as one.

This latest problem was also quite inevitable. If I hadn't used that overpowered patronus on Izual, we would be dead. If I had declined the gift, not only I would have insulted an archangel greatly, Master Cain probably would have lost interest in helping us. If I had given the Shard to him... I would be dead. Killed in a fight where he would have forced the separation. Or because of the trauma of willing separation. I simply can't see myself parting with it. It is mine and I am its...

Ouch!

Something zapped me! No, the **Shard** zapped me. And in the zap was a message. Oh! Right, sorry. **She** is mine and I am hers.

No shit about that wrought-in conscience. And a feminine conscience at that. Again, my luck! Strange how kickass-powerful, sentient, celestial artefacts always seem to be feminine. Or if not, the one who would wield it would always be a heroine. Or if not, there **has** to be at least one gorgeous babe somewhere in the story, who gets involved with the hero. Strange how Miss Shard found her way to rest on my chest – and that Leah was so interested in this fact. And strange why I am thinking about her and not someone else, who is also gorgeous, also has some interest in a thing, only inside my chest and is already involved with me. Involved with **me** and not my chest or the shard stuff on it, or the whole stuff a little bit to the south. I would not mind **that** particular interest, though...

Ouch! Hey, quit zapping me! I was just theorizing! Honestly...

I stopped when I reached the other side of the tavern's perimeter and I leaned in to support my torso on the wooden fence. That's how I raised my gaze to the still dark sky. It was cloudy, but patches of deep, dark blue and indigo were already there. What was odd, in spite of the clear patches, was that no stars showed. Not one bright spot on the vast canvas. The moons were hidden too – both of them. Probably behind a cloud, for there were a half moon and a quarter moon yesterday. I hope Remus won't be overly affected by this bi-lunar cycle—

Shh! My ears perched. I heard something scuffle against the ground behind me. I straightened up and my hand moved to the right angle, so that with a little twist, my wand would pop into my grip. And I waited.

Silence greeted me, apart from the crickets and the revel in the tavern. I fine tuned my ears to the fresh memory of the scuffle, so I could recognize even the softest version of it, should it occur again.

There! Again.

My wand came to my hand like a thought comes to a trained mind – flawlessly, seamlessly, faster than light -, but I did not turn. I concentrated and cast a silent revealing charm behind me. _Homanun revelio_ would indicate if any human presence were in my vicinity. I adjusted the power so it would not reach the tavern, where the spell would go overboard with the crowd inside. The wave of magic spread out behind me and in my mind, a circular picture not unlike a sonar's display was drawn. And sure enough, affirming my good hearing, there was a presence a good ten feet from my back, slightly to the left.

Okay. Procedure will be the following. Roll to the right with a slight turn ending in a low crouch. It is a likely possibility that I'm just panicking and the presence is friendly, so a strong _Protego_ would suffice. If the target has any problem with that... Well, I'll ask questions later. Or won't. Blast, if it's Dora or Sirius, I'll never hear the end of it. They will roll on the ground laughing at my skittishne—

There, the scuffle again!

I jump-rolled to the left and had to twist around as I landed backwards to the sound and I threw up an _Aegis_ shield, which would held its ground against a barrage of exploding hexes. It gave off a hard, pale-blue light, so maybe it was better that the flimsy-misty white layer of the _Protego_ which would obscure my vision rather than enhancing it.

Yes. Yes, I overdid it a bit. So what? Adrenaline surges do funny things to the children of men!

"Impressive..." drawled a deep voice.

I've never heard it before, so I tensed and sprung up. I sprung up, because I landed behind several wooden barrels and I could not see my target. I strafed swiftly to the side and in the open, I leveled myself into the low-aggressive dueling stance. I found that this stance was better for defense than the actual defensive stance; for the opponent often wavered in their intent if faced with a hotshot man ready to go wild and violent on the slightest provocation. The prey often became the hunter that way.

The target was in sight now; clear, straight ahead. But it was unresponsive. It stood still, straight-backed, in no stance noticeable or known by me and I couldn't see any weapons drawn either. I, on the other hand, didn't relent, though. I stayed in my low-stance, ready and alert. No one fooled me twice the same way.

"Quick, agile. With reflexes only found in war-weathered warriors. And yet, so young. Barely a lad..." continued the stranger with this inspection I could not place.

"Show the face belonging to that voice! Slowly!" I commanded.

"Cool and collected, but imperious as well," he added. I thought I could hear a smile in his voice. The figure in front of me was just a silhouette, nothing distinctive in its shape. The light of my shield did not reach him. He – consciously or not – remained outside of its radius.

"I might lose my cool if you kept me waiting any longer..." I threatened and to emphasise my point I pumped a little harmless magic and intent to the tip of my wand, creating a spark of light – a basic lumos or a muggle sparkler, if you will.

"Ease up, lad. I won't attack you," he said in a calm manner. His voice was silky, soothing and... I dunno... It caressed me? Ah, that sounds so wrong! But it did feel good to my ears. Never mind that, Harry. You had to, well, keep your cool. Heh! Behold the clear exhibit of how good I am to live up to my threats. Let's make another one, then!

"Of course you won't. I won't give you a chance. Your voice may be angelic, but your face that of a demon's. Show yourself!"

He didn't respond right away. And when he did, he ignored my demand and spoke his own mind.

"You move like a sword dancer, yet I can't see a sword with you. You use a kind of magic which does not mark the sorcerer's elementalism. You wield a wand – a rather plain and rudimentary one – but you are clearly not one of my kind."

"Which is?"

He ignored me again. "I will have to title you as... a **wizard**..." he said the word with intent, as if he wanted to convey some hidden message with it. He became silent afterwards again.

I was mildly surprised that he used the term which described me the most aptly. I was beyond doubt a wizard. I was born one. And trained to be the best of bests ever since. I had to. Not that I was anywhere there, but a man can dream, can he not? So his observations about me were unnervingly precise and true. Quick, agile, with acute senses and reflexes, moving around as a professional auror instead of the common stationary dueling styles and of course wielding a wand. It was also surprising that he recognized the piece of wood in its true purpose. No one did so far. Or if they did, they forgot to mention. And he said, plain and rudimentary. What did he meant by that? I refused to be offended, as we were strangers here as much as they were strangers to us. Strangers with strange habits and culture.

And what the heck did he meant by 'my kind'? Was he not human? Part human? Blast and curse it to Hell and back thrice and spit on it then, for all the shit I tend to step into! ARGH!

Anyway...

Anyway.

He said wizard. **Wizard**, more precisely. He said it clearly, slowly, with meaning, intention. And as someone who... who want to measure the other's reaction to the word. Hmm... interesting.

"You may be right by doing so," I replied after the little pause.

"Hmm... interesting," he said my earlier thoughts. And then, he apparently lost the intention to continue speaking. I fumed silently.

"I'm glad that I can keep you intrigued. Please, don't reciprocate the effort. Patience is not one of my stronger traits."

He hummed in a distracted way – a way that told me that he was perfectly at ease and barely paying attention to my tense stance or glowing wand-tip. Barely being the keyword. As I said, no one fooled me twice with the same trick. Actually, this one did not happen with me, I was smart enough to figure it out on my own—Ah, c'mon! Concentrate, Harry!

"I'll show myself if you tell me you name. The **real** one."

I was mystified. Truly. So in my confusion, I could only think that it won't hurt me or anyone to tell him my real name. It had no meaning here after all.

"Harry James Potter, I was named thusly at my birth." This archaic speech became some sort of fixation to me for some reason.

"A birth that happened not in this world..." he said to my shock.

And he stepped into the light-circle.

My first reaction was almost the most blackest of the darkest dark curses in my repertoire – yes, **those** included. Almost. The similarity was huge. But it was just that. Similarity, not identity.

Instead of long, straight platinum-blond hair, he had that in a stark-white colour. Instead of ice-blue eyes, he had silver. The tall, prominent nose, the jutting chin, the wide jaw, the high cheekbones, the low brow with the aristocratically curved eyebrows – they were almost the same. Almost. Instead of the expensive and spotless black robes, he wore a plain and simple black cloak, cape on.

Instead of Lucius Malfoy, before me stood a man who could have been his twin.

"You look very surprised. Perhaps, I am not who you expected? Or maybe... precisely the same?" he drawled slowly. He was reading me all the time, studying my reactions, little facial muscle-motions.

But he made a huge mistake: he assumed that I assumed something. That makes an ass out of you and me, buddy! Cubed!

"I expected you to look like someone I couldn't have possibly expected, but you expertly represent the exception, by being the exact replica of the excrement of a man I expected the least to ever see again."

Now, figure this one out, Mr. Mystery Malfoy de'Coy! Decoy—de'Coy... got it? Hehe! Meanwhile, I'll allow myself a clap on the back and a proud mental smile. I sure can improvise, man! And I'm witty, yes. High-five!

But then, I was rendered surprisingly perplexed, for he... chuckled.

"Hah! What a keen mind and silver tongue! But rest assured, I have no family and very few friends; friends who mystify even me with their willingness to actually be and stay my friends, despite my wish of the opposite. And I would be aware if anyone would try to parade in my skin by use of magic. So, perhaps, I really am that man you were reminded of by my appearance."

So, I encountered a lone-wolf with issues of self-depreciation and perhaps a self-built and firmly planted inferiority complex, with the difference that he believes in his inferiority instead of fighting against it. Curious.

But I will not assume anything! I will evaluate him along the way. Maybe he reveals more – intentionally or otherwise.

One thing was certain, though. He was not Lucius Malfoy.

Joy.

And I'm a bit disappointed, frankly...

Weird.

When I intended to relax my stance and lower my wand a bit, I realized that my knees were already straight, my wand held loosely in his direction, but pointing before his feet. It seemed my body decided for me already, automatically, by instinct. He did say that he won't attack me. However... I'll try a small test.

"You may resemble the man, but you are nothing like him," I told him with the questionable amount of conviction I felt carefully well veiled. One thing that he really was not Lucius, but any link to that man would mean trouble – Warning! Approach cautiously!

"Careful with such assumptions..." he drawled and took a half step ahead, towards me.

In a blink I was back to my 'Wrinkle your nose and die!' stance. He stopped. I smiled. He just contradicted himself...

"Hypocrisy can be bad for your health too..." I said in my best imitation of his drawl.

"Of course," he conceded and inclined his head. "How silly of me..."

"Lucky of you," I corrected. "If you had some kind of weapon in your hand while you took that step, perhaps you would be worse off than being simply 'silly'."

"And what makes you think I don't have a weapon in my hand, young one?"

Of course... How silly of me... Blast it, Potter! The cloak! It covers his entire body neck down. His hand could be easily wielding any sort of weapon. He looks kind of like... He had a magical vibe, but contrarily to that his body is quite bulky, well built, so maybe he's not a wizard...erm, sorcerer. Magician, whatever. Either way - his hands are hidden! I could be very dead right now!

I sighed and straightened up. And on some strange whim inclined my head. My wand remained in hand, held aloft.

"I reckon it's the bane of mankind – one of the many: to always assume even if you try not to. But you did promise the harmlessness of your intentions, be them whatever they are. And what I already learned during my short stay here is that the people of Sanctuary respect virtues and traits. You held to your promise, so that would make you a gentleman..."

He chuckled again.

"That's an assumption again, young one..." he warned with amusement and with a little edge.

"No," I argued. "That's a logical deduction. After all, you did nothing yet whereby you could have broken your promise." Seriously, what's with me and archaism? Probably the climate.

"Appearance can deceive."

"Very true," I said and grinned. My wrist flicked – my left, wandless one – and a magical gust of wind blew against the Stranger, blowing his cloak off from his torso.

He wore a black leather boots and pants combination. And a black linen shirt atop of which leather straps crossed each other over his chest to hold two leather pauldrons on his shoulders. Several leather bags and potion bottles dangled on the intersecting lines of those belts. His hands were covered in black gloves and were positioned near his wide belt around his waist; right thumb hooked into it, left hand gripping the handle of an elaborately carved ivory bone-dagger.

This, I sized up in about one second. I was already lowering to my offensive-defence stance.

"You really want to fight, don't you, young one?" he asked with a sigh.

I didn't answer.

He slowly, deliberately, while maintaining eye-contact with me, extracted his dagger from its sheath and held it in front of him in a position quite unfitting for a fight.

"However--" he started and switched his grip on the handle, slowly, so that its sharp tip faced down. "—I don't... and won't."

And with that, he dropped to a crouch so suddenly that I didn't even have the time to shift a muscle. He remained that way, though. Head hanging low, on half knee, dagger plunged to the hilt into the hard soil. I didn't launch any colourful beam of light out of panic thankfully. I just remained still and observed the odd behaviour.

He was still, not even breathing. Odd. He gripped the handle of his weapon with one hand, the other was placed palm down on the ground.

And then, I noticed.

The cool night air drew his breath. It was barely visible as it was not that cold and obviously he was whispering. The little cheating chanter!

I was about to spring to the side, but faster than possible, large and thick tentacles in the color and texture of bone sprouted from the earth all around me. I crashed into one of them and recoiled painfully. My shoulder hurt, but it was a minor problem.

I was caged.

I was imprisoned in a bone cage. It was inside my still holding _Aegis_. Clever, but will it hold against my _Reducto_?

"_Reducto!_" I intoned and the teal-blue beam shot out of my wand and into the gross column of bone.

It didn't crumble into dust, though, as I expected. It absorbed the curse and made a crackling, sizzling sound. And resisted, stood undamaged.

I growled.

And I heard him chuckle again. He was standing right in front of my shield, smug and relaxed, twirling his dagger in his hand.

"Harry James Potter. Talented you may be, but still very young, lacking experience..." he said **very** sagely with a shake of his head, fair hair swinging around him.

I gritted my teeth, but a plan 'B' already formed in my head.

"You know... Underestimation is even worse than assumption," I told him and then, with all my intent and power, I willed myself behind him while leaving a bit of that intent behind - making a interesting twist to my disapparation.

There was a twin _Pop!_ Almost simultaneous and I was standing behind him, while a solid looking ghost image of me remained in the place I left.

Unfortunately, the mirror-image of me was fading more rapidly than I wanted and he realized my ploy immediately. My wand hand whipped forward, his body twisted around. And when our swift motions came to an end, we stood less than one foot away, my wand at his throat, his dagger at mine, boring into each other's eyes.

We stayed this way for a little awhile, neither of us moving, nor even breathing and definitely not blinking.

When the urge to breath got too intense, I slowly exhaled and took another gulp of air. The razor-like edge of his dagger scraped my jugular even as I tried to make the faintest movement. He blinked – apparently air was not so vital necessity for him. These were small, insignificant things otherwise, but in this situation they were somewhat of an ice-breaker.

"Draw," I stated, but there was a hint of a question in it. I think he noticed too.

"Indeed," he replied in a constricted voice without moving too much muscle, even on his face. But then, his right brow rose in inquiry.

The corner of my mouth twitched and it was possible that it remained curved upwards in a small half-smile. His reaction was little, but felt huge nonetheless. However cool my facade was, I was truly wary of this man. The tip of his dagger left the skin of my throat. Just that. Not more, not any less; his arm remained in position, the blade hovering a good inch above my jugular artery. In return, I removed my wand from where it was pressed firmly into the underside of his chin, between his jaws.

I had a quick, fleeting realization why his 'Indeed' was strained and distorted. It was, because I was pressing my wand too hard into his jowl, not because he was angry or irritated.

After a moment of relieved pause, we drew back our hand together, slowly, and took two steps back. We were still staring at each other, me with my half-smile, his face an impassive mask – better than even Snape's. And that's because while Snape's face was constant and unchangeable, it was frozen into one emotion usually: distaste. This guy was the paragon of apathy.

After a while, he lowered his arm fully until it rested limply by his side. I grinned and tipped my wand up, while lowering it similarly as he did.

"Still impressive," was his comment.

"You surprised me," I answered back, feeling the need to compliment back the man.

"I do that," he said with a nod – like that was a universal fact. 'The grass is green; the sky is blue; I surprise people.'

"Now, as we are past the proper introductions, let's continue with some small talk, hm?" I asked conversationally. When he arched his brow again – I started to feel that was his only facial expressive tool – I continued. "Who the hell are you?" I asked slowly and intently. It was not harsh, just patient – with the ulterior tone of a command –, the kind of manner you speak to a mentally handicapped child. I really wanted to know.

"I'm just a traveller, my name is unimportant." He was calm. But like, well, sort of on the edge. Not totally aloof and distant or reserved, but not warm and friendly or open either. I guess, the right term would be: blasé.

"Ah-ham. How can I call you then?"

"Why, like you usually call someone: 'Hey, come here!'"

I snorted. Funny guy. He was a strange mix of Snape, Malfoy Sr. and Sirius.

"Ha-ha. 'Hey' does not suit you... Ah, no matter. You said you're a traveller, yes? Then, henceforth, you'll be known as the Wanderer!"

He winced. Only slightly, but it was the strongest reaction I've seen from him yet. But... Oh! Oh, yeah, I know! Darn, I said the taboo word...

His voice was as calm as ever, though, when he spoke. Even a bit amused. "Thank you for the title, but I can see it on your face now that you know of its... delicate nature. Perhaps you would want to choose another one? And as a piece of advice, even if I don't really care about ridiculous superstitions of such words, others do. If you don't want trouble on your back, you won't insist saying it too much aloud."

"I won't," I promised. "But why is this word such a... blasphemy here?" I asked curiously.

"Bad history. Let it be enough, that it's the affectionate nickname of one of the Arch-demons," he said vaguely. It was enough.

"Okay. Perhaps I don't want to hear more."

"You are wise then."

"So..." I started after a long pause. I raked my brain for something to say. Then it came like a jolt. Like all thoughts usually came. "What were you doing out here, sneaking behind me?"

"From my perspective: What were you doing out here, sneaking in front of me?" he shot back with that raised eyebrow. But he then let it drop and humoured me. "I was drinking on the porch."

"Alone?"

"With my bottle as my only companion."

"You are not a very social person, are you?"

"I don't like crowds."

I could accept that. There were times when I too possessed some revulsion of crowds. But I grew out of it with Sirius' essential help – I do give the credit where it's due.

"Right. I was airing my head out here."

"And from the sounds of it, your stomach too..." he murmured, but it was intentionally loud enough so I could hear it.

I shivered. "What the bloody hell drowned in that well?"

"Ah, you recognized the scent—"

"Stench..."

"—of death. Impressive... for a lad. On the other hand, others might find it... disturbing... to be so well acquainted with death so young."

"Would you kindly step over this age-issue?"

"As you wish," he conceded. And continued. "I don't know if anything drowned into the well. It is possible. However it is blood that taints the water, ancient blood, shed violently. There were great battles here on this land, and the blood spilt then did not turn water. It slowly seeped into the soil and from the soil into the waters of the deep, defiling it with the memory of carnage and the fury of the restless dead."

He said this in his detached, but silky voice. It made the hair on my back stand on edge. The images that came unbound to my mind at his explanation were not helping matters.

"Thanks for letting me know..." I groaned wryly.

"You're welcome."

I forced myself not to think on that and instead asked my next question that burned my sides with curiosity.

"What's with that 'wizard' comment? You said it, like... like, I dunno, as if you expected me to cry bloody murder and pounce on you..."

"What an interesting manner of speech this one has..." he muttered under his breath. This time, I don't think it was intentional, but I heard anyways. Also, I found out the reason behind my archaic manner of speech. And see? One time I drop it, and this fellow noticed right on.

"You are actually quite right," he continued. "Wizard is a term quite derogatory, used to mark brash, cocky and rebellious fledgling mages or sorcerer's, who think they are above their order's standard rules and-or want power above all else. They often leave their masters, their lore, to travel around seeking more powerful, exotic and unconventional – and too often, also darker – knowledge. Your strange magic gave too much potential base for the provocation. Please, forgive me, if I insulted you."

His voice still had me reeling. It was smooth and alluringly silky, a good sound to listen to. I still chewed on what he said, because I heard his words despite the distraction of his ensnaring voice. It was a good piece of advice too. We shouldn't introduce ourselves as wizards too much henceforth. Good thing we haven't yet.

"I cannot be offended, because I **am** a wizard, only not within the definition of yours. So there's nothing to forgive." I even resembled this version of 'wizard' quite a bit. But that was not something I would admit aloud to anyone. I was content to keep it a secret henceforward. The handful of people, who knew that the Sorting Hat was dead on right with its intuition were abundant enough. I was ambitious. And curious. Add up and voila... I would not go as far as power-hungry, but I really liked to learn new and interesting stuff. And as dark stuff was always the most interesting... There you go.

He inclined his head once, but immediately looked back up and now he started to speak first.

"So where did you come here from?"

His question rang a bell in my mind. It reminded me of something he said earlier. _'A birth that happened not in this world...'_

"I would guess right if I assumed that you have an inkling that we are Outlanders in the deepest sense of the term, eh?"

"The deepest sense of the word outlander as in: not native of this land? Where land means world?"

"Right. Three other people and I came from something I would call a parallel universe. Or... another 'station' in the Cycle—"

"You are aware of the Cycle?" he asked in harry surprise. Wow, I alone managed to crack his blasé shell. These were strong emotions – and they showed too! If only for moments. I successfully forced myself not to be fazed by this sudden change.

"Vaguely. But the main concept I know, understand and accept."

"Splendid," he allowed somewhat distractedly. His mental cogs were almost too loud to be just mental in nature. He was musing on something while stroking his stubble-dusted chin.

"If you say so..."

"And did you finish your existence in that other world?" he asked me, this time giving me all of his attention. So my answer to this would be important...

"Uh, did we die, you mean?" I asked and he nodded. What an odd phrasing. "No, we entered a sort of portal that brought us straight into Hell. We struggled our way up from there. Besides, if we died there and were reborn here, wouldn't we forget everything about our previous lives and be simple newborns?" It was only logical. But he looked like he didn't even listen to that last part I said.

"You escaped the Burning Hells?" he asked with an amused sort-of-smile on his face. His deep-thinking episode seemed to be over, for which I was rather grateful.

"Barely. We encountered the demonic form of Izual—"

"Are you sure you are alive?" he interrupted with a full on smirk now, amusement evident in his teasing eyes.

"—but I used a spell that liberated his enslaved, jaded soul from its horrific cage. Or something like that, I don't remember too well how he phrased it..."

"You liberated an Archangel's soul from its demon possessed corruption?" he demanded, suddenly serious again as the Spanish Flu. "How?" His question came out as a compelling command to answer or else... He even took a step forward.

I remained in place defiantly, staring back straight into his eyes, which were only a few inches above the level of mine.

"As I said," I started slowly, again as if I was speaking to a dim child – I'm not sure why I always tempted fate as such; this man was obviously dangerous and not someone to trifle with. "I cast a spell that liberated his... or if I think about it, more like empowered his angelic side and helped it overcome the demonic suppression."

"And tell me, how did you get that spell through his thick, magic resistant, granite-hard skin? Furthermore, how come you had the time to utter the spell?" His tone was disbelieving and challenging, but also not as harsh and dismissive – it allowed me the benefit of doubt. This was a venerable man – if a 'bit' odd. And intimidating. But nevertheless, he was not prejudiced and that was a BIG brownie point for him.

"Well, I've got the time, because – out of sheer luck, rest assured – he decided to play with me and my, uh, lady friend for bit before ending our lives. So I got enough time to try. As to how I got it past his skin? I launched my spell into his opened mouth as he laughed on our misery and he sort of... swallowed it, I guess."

He snorted with a half-smile, and then turned back to his business face.

"What was the spell?"

"It was the Patronus charm." Upon seeing his blank stare I realized that our magical diction was mismatching and completely different. I wasn't even sure Latin was spoken around here. In fact, I was surprised that English was the common tongue here. Or...? Perhaps I and the others too are under a strange delusion that we are speaking English, but actually we are speaking in a totally alien language that somehow was imprinted into our brains when we crossed the planes via that portal...

Oops, he is staring at me really hard. Backtrack and save musings for sometime later.

"Ah, it's an emotion-based spell, which creates an ethereal guardian spirit in the form of an animal, metaphoric to the caster's sense and idea of safety, comfort, warmth and most importantly, happiness. Could you follow so far?"

"Hmm..." he answered. Now, that could mean a lot of things, given that his face was mildly thoughtful. Thanks, buddy. I don't really want to repeat the lecture... "Show it!"

I arched an eyebrow.

"...please."

And I grinned at that. Really funny guy! Brandishing my wand I didn't have to dig deep in my memory bank for a happy thought, it came almost on its own, in its bright **pink** giddiness. I let the memory swam fully in front of my mental screen and immersed myself in it. The emotions tied to it manifested themselves in my body; my brain leaked dopamine, serotonin and acetylcholine, which blended into the delicious cocktail quickening my heartbeat, flushing my skin in heightened blood-pressure and caused an overall neural bedlam that could be called excitement or... arousal.

"_Expecto patronum!_"

The incantation almost came out as a sensual moan. Almost. I always had a very vivid imagination. As for my latest show of deftness in medical diction? Well... Hermione rubs on me. She once told me a story starring herself and a tank of nitrous-oxide - aka. laughing gas - and a massage chair. Her dad later explained the reason why she felt what she felt when she used the chair 'resonate' in a... creative manner. Way to go and show it to your prude side, Miss Reason and Decorum! Okay.

Meanwhile Spectral Prongs – trademark! – sprung out of my wand eagerly, galloped around us with bouncing happiness and finally came to stand by my right, greeting me with a nod and shake of his head topped with his magnificent antlers.

I broke out of the emotion-igniting memory, but despite that, I could still feel the elation and joy that affected me just moments before – Prongs radiated it, like the Sun does its warmth. I also saw, when I glanced up to see his reaction, a contented smile settling on the Malfoy-lookalike's face.

"Fascinating..." he murmured and reached out to touch the sparkling, billowing, swirling, glowing surface of the stag spirit.

"Uh, I wouldn't do that if I were you," I cautioned.

Somehow my patroni behaved differently than others in a particular regard. Its aura was all right, proper, following the norm, but if you touched it, it infused you with the concentrated essence of the actual emotion and sensation which materialized it. Or so I figured and this is the best explanation I could come up with. It was unique to my patroni; those of the other's did not do anything like this. When I was once tutoring Gin on mastering hers and I showed her mine - don't misinterpret your own words, Potter! – I used the memory I cherished very dearly; the memory of my first encounter with Fleur – and generally my first time all the same. It was intense, powerful. The ultimate loss of my already shredded innocence. Uh, that sounded sad and horrible. Let me rephrase: my ascension from boy to M.A.N. – as in Mature, Awesome, and Nymphomaniac. That's about right. So, where was I? Yeah, I used that evergreen gift of a memory I got from my Flower... Flower-lover... heh! Hehe...

Ugh! Go away nasty, nasty, overly tempting, vivid, sexy-hot images! Shoo!

SO! I conjured a patronus using **that** particular memory and it made the spirit corporeal, all right. Gin was awed by its beauty and made an attempt to touch it. When her slender fingers brushed against it, she gasped out loud, her breathing quickened, she begun to shake and sweat, all the while making moans of rapture. Finally her knees buckled and she sunk down with the shriek of fulfilment. And she was touching it circa twenty seconds! After her blissful delirium faded a bit, she looked up at me with that wild expression that was contagious – making me wild –, the flames of passion and desire in her eyes and before I could so much as gulp, she pounced and tackled me under her body and kissed me so hard and so thoroughly, that it still is the Number One Most Awesomely Mind-blowing Kiss That Should Not Have Happened For She Is My Best Friend And Like A Sister To Me Therefore A Forbidden Fruit... I've ever experienced. It cannot be compared to anything. Even Fleur's or those of the others I shared a kiss with. But as it was against our codes and would not have happened had we possessed our sanity, it was a memory we buried deep and never recalled – only sometimes in our minds, like twice a week... kidding – by common assent. But man, it was awesome! Perhaps the knowledge that it was unadvised and 'forbidden' by mutual, but non-discussed consent was what made it more... **more.**

We were in the process of pealing each other's clothes off, when we remembered, or rather, re-discovered that beside the two of us, three other of our friends were in the room, standing and staring in various states of stupefied shock. We both began stammering out profound apologies, our faces blushing more than a fresh-fed vampire's. Luna was staring as usual, meaning she did not find it one bit odd, Neville looked lost and confused. But later when I asked him, he swore to try and forget it or at least never mention it again. And Ron? Ron requested—pleaded for an obliviation after he suppressed his urge to murder us with his bare hands.

After the incident, we couldn't look at each other for nearly two weeks. But then we cornered each other and talked it through. Hence that long, serious talk, our bond of friendship grew even deeper. She really is my most bestest B.F.F. Even more so than Hermione. I usually don't have any preferences or levels or ladders concerning anything, especially my non-sexual relationships, but frankly, there are things I just simply can't tell Mione or even Ron for that matter. There are things that only two people can hear and understand. Sirius just cannot be baffled with anything. Improper, impossible, too gross, insane and too dangerous are terms that cannot be found in his dictionary. Ginny is just like that, only with a female frameset of mind. She is just awesome the way she is. And the best is that neither of us wanted any more from each other than this. Correction: I didn't. She did, but once she warmed up to me, she realized that her idolized hero was not me. Further correction: I have not wanted anything more than friendship from her. So far. Too actively. Out loud. But that is only a dream in my dreams - I AM human and male at that -, not a real desire.

And I got totally sidetracked again! The Malfoy-clone was a good two feet away from me, sitting on his bum as if he had tripped and fallen down on it... And he looked at me with surprised curiosity mixed with incredulous anger.

Apparently, I missed a few moments here.

I sank into my mind, seeking my subconscious and stimulated it – but suggested would be a better word for it – to provide me the events of the past... what? One minute at the most. Like the rewind button on a VRC! Cool, huh? The mental arts are very useful. Thank you, Prof. Dumbledore!

Here's the process. Even thought I was daydreaming about the 'Djinn', my eyes were staring with wide focus at the space in front of me. Now, that space was occupied by my patronus and Malfoy Mark II, so despite my mind soaring a mile away, my visual receptors recorded the scene and stored it in my 'attic'. All I had to do was climb the ladder and shift through the mountains of old boxes that stored similar 'Missed moments'. Really cool, indeed.

Watching the archive record I found that he did touch Prongs and that was the cause of his tripping and falling. It was only like eight seconds, which was weird – I was totally under the impression that I zoned out for more than that.

"What was _**that**_?" he demanded.

"That was my emotion that fuelled the spell up. If the emotion behind it is not strong enough, the patronus won't incarnate in its animal form, only in a fluorescent, silver mist. Which is not that effective."

"And **this** was the spell with which you defeated Izual?" he asked incredulously.

"It was. Why?"

He stared at me with a blank face for more that it was polite and then snorted.

"What?" I inquired, confused.

"I just imagined the demonic Izual swallowing this thing, charged up by your—emotions—such as this, making him quite—excited," he said slowly, contemplating each word, rolling them in his mouth, like one savours good wine. Then, he chuckled.

Oh, thanks so much for the acute image you just planted in my mind. How vivid and—absolutely, terribly **grotesque**! I couldn't decide whether I was more nauseous or morbidly amused. It was kinda funny, if you had pushed the fact that he was a fallen angel, a demon aside. Seemed like this guy preferred black humour. Like his stunt with that bone-cage...

Bone-cage.

Remus' words were suddenly ranging in my ears: _'And the final one, the Necromancer.... His offensive magic constituted of bone-magic, whatever it is...'_

The bone-cage, his ivory dagger, his intimidating, dark demeanour, his black humour and his fascination-laced explanation about the ancient, blood-tainted well, reeking of death...

Necromancer.

Right, okay... all right. Yeah, I will comment on it when my mind really catches up.

"So..." I started with eager uncertainty, having no idea what to say.

"You reacted quite extremely to my approach," he commented out of blue. He was analysing me with pointed questions.

"To your sneaking up on me, you mean..."

"Should I have yelled at you? Would that have been what you preferred?"

"Probably not. Lucky you. My reflexes tend to act without my brain's consent sometimes."

"Why though, I wonder... Such, ah, 'habits' people tend to gain or rather develop in war or by exposure to extended, repetitive life-threatening situations. Forgive me for bringing this up again, but you really are young for a war-hardy veteran and you lack the scars and that cold glint within your irises – marks of a ruthless killer. So that leaves the personal danger. Someone or something hunts you, wants you dead? Or... Do you have something with you that you wish to keep from others?"

"It is possible that if you listed **all** the suspicious stuff that could fit one person, every one of them would apply to me."

"Ah, you're trouble then. Or too curious? Cursed, perhaps?" he went on, pausing after a guess to gauge my reaction.

"As for trouble – no. I'm the magnet, not the trouble. But to my enemies, sure I'm trouble, big time, no doubt in that. The cursed bit seems strangely apt, but technically is not the truth. The curiosity is something, though, that would fit **you** wholly better at the moment, not me. Why do you care?"

"I **am** curious."

"Haha. Then, if it's your only reason for asking, you surely would understand when I deny further answers in a moment... Wait... Just a sec... Sorry, private business. There you go."

"Very well, Harry James Potter. I won't pry into your private business as to why you are carrying the Shard or to where."

"Thanks."

I could feel that in moments it would dawn on me.

"What did you just say?" I demanded him, resisting the urge to walk up to him and... stare him down. He was taller for one and our truce was not carved in stone. The 'He's a freakin' necromancer!' bit still eluded my comprehension. Not for long, though, I hoped.

"The Shard of Azurewrath is dangling around your neck. Forgive my curiosity when I wanted to know why one of the most powerful magical artefacts has apparently chosen you as its master."

"**Her** master," I corrected absently, while my mind was trying to give this whole night a kind of sense that would explain things. Angels, demons, Hell, Heaven, the cycle, portals, Dora, my own indebted archangel, the Shard of a Kickass Sword who has her own consciousness, Dora, horadric lifestyle and commitment, Leah, master, quest, liquid of death, Dora, necromancers, patroni, Dora...

Great Skies! My head is a mess!

The necromancer meanwhile just watched my misery and boiling meltdown in silent amusement. And he too, like Leah and Cain could sense the presence of this bleedin' accursed piece of—**ZAP!**

Oh, for the love of... I was just kidding! Really.

Darn it all to hell!

"Okay—Lone Wolf! This is the point when I will kindly ask you to mind your own business unless you have a very, very good reason to continue bothering me."

"My, my! I hit the nail on the head. A touchy subject, is it not?" he asked with a mockingly arched left brow.

"Yes, yes it is. So much so, that if you even think about brushing it absently with subtle leading questions... there will be violence!"

He **laughed**!

"Oh, that was rather entertaining. Though I hardly think it was your intention. More like to be intimidating. You'll have to work on that, if you don't mind constructive criticism. The grand, virtuous knight of justice lines would fit more to your person, I think."

You are dangerously close to blowing my fuse, buddy. Better find that mute button if you know what is good for you! That was the short-wired, brash-bold side of me that was apparently genetically cemented into my system - for it refused to be wiped, despite the intense treatment.

"I don't have time for foolish mockingbirds. Don't let your 'drinking companion' wait up on you! Good night!" I said doing a face about and starting to march away.

The bastard still laughed! I was so irritated by this crow that I didn't even stopped to be awed by the fact that he actually laughed, which was the strongest display of any emotion from him so far – also completely incredulous.

"I have no choice but to bring up your age again Harry James of the Potters. This was absolutely childish!" Me? Childish? Who started to mock the other, again?

"See if I care!" I shot back.

Why did I talk back? I should have ignored the man completely. I should have just walked away. Crap, now I really was childish.

"What's the matter, lad? Did your lady friend just deny your approach, didn't she? Trag'Oul's bones! This is some serious problem."

Snap!

Yeah, like that: snap!

There went my fuse. Like, 'snap'!

Despite my better judgment, I stopped short and spun back to face him. It didn't matter that I should have realized the bait; that he was more childish than I'd ever been; that this all was intentional provocation. With a cut circuit, I could not concern myself with trivialities. I possibly looked murderous, but this guy had a very different kind of perception about scary and intimidating.

I didn't care a bit right then.

I wanted to do something violent.

"The fate of my home-world rests upon my shoulders, because a lunatic, power-crazed psycho, capable of destroying all goodness and bliss, made me his archenemy by a fated accident begotten by his gullible and paranoid nature. And I am not even there to decide said fate! My friends are probably dying in the battle I involuntarily left behind and I'm here, wasting my time with a fuckin' bully, who despite my earlier doubts turns out to be just like the man who I'd mistaken him from at first sight. I crash land in Burning Bloody Hells itself of all places and before I even have the time to scrunch up my nose because of that unholy stench down there, bigass demons just spring up from the blackened soil with the clear intention to chew our fuckin' heads off! Right after we free an archangel spirit from its demon-bound corruption – FYI, I'm not religious, never was, so this little part would be still rather unbelievable to me had I not seen it with my own very eyes –, said angel transports us to this place, where we are hired by a crazy, old magician, who is even battier than the crazy, old magician mentoring me back home."

"It turns out that, yet again, I involuntarily became the part of a great struggle, only this time between supernatural forces, as the wielder of some super-duper-weapon. It's just that I managed to join neither side, but the tiny, fragile humanity stuck between the frontlines, sometimes also called the 'no matter what's the outcome, we'll all perish anyway' party. I have to help you folks here to get back home, where I can help my own kin. Which 'help' has to be carried out by me confronting that powerful bastard who's my archenemy, in a fatal duel of destinies. But to do that, I have to help here, as I said, which help will involve me making yet another world-fate changing decision, as was just prophesised to me tonight by a mentally instable, ancient looking, blind, purple soothsayer. And, indeed, my accursed luck, which works perfectly fine in most situations but never when I really would need sheer luck, seems to extend onto my women-business."

"So, yes! I'm a bit snarky, thank you very much! And now--FUCK off!"

Ugh! I so don't like delivering such tirades. Still, they are simply necessary sometimes. And frankly, they do provide some measure of relief.

Would provide ever so more, if this dead-raiser would get the message and sod off. Or better yet: don't! Push me and I'll get my much awaited blood and gore! Insert evil laugh here. Then a clearing of throat and sobering up.

"Thank you, young Master Potter! You gave me what I wanted to hear. I'd advise controlling yourself better later on, because if you repeat this rant to undesirable elements, some vital information would get to the Enemy and we wouldn't want that."

Oh, great! Simply wonderful! Not only provoked me into revelation, he will also tag along.

"Would you kindly provide me some loneliness to organize my thoughts? Go back to your drink and enjoy the night. Farewell."

"Oh, it is not very polite to keep your audience in the suspense, you know. You impart with the crass outlines of your quest and now expect me to leave? These are rather conflicting intentions."

"Then let my intention be clarion clear. Leave! Farewell! Be well, take care, have fun! This does not concern you. Go! Bye! Adios!"

As I turned and started walking away again; unfortunately not back for the tavern, but to East, towards New Tristram, for our campsite, I noted the growing glow of a lighter shade of dirty indigo on the horizon. Dawn was drawing near. There goes our good beauty sleep before the journey.

"It is my concern," he called to my back simply. It made me stop.

"When the field of battle is scattered with the inert corpses of our allies and foes, I'll let you know. **Then** will it be your concern!" I called back, sending a small challenge to him. The guy was witty; he would get it that—

"Ah, I see. You are quite perceptive for an Outlander!"

--I knew.

"It was not that hard to figure out."

We were staring at each other, in rigid stances, a good fifteen feet away. Perfect setup for a duel - which I would have liked to avoid this time.

"I was under the impression that you were not prejudiced..." he told me, his voice devoid of anything but the necessary sound waves to make it audible - it was so monotone.

"I am not. But, despite being in another world with different culture, you beginning to prove all our ill thoughts and tales about 'dead-raisers' to be true."

He didn't respond. Not verbally at least; his brows were dropped low into a mighty frown and his eyes were hard, glinting like a polished blade freshly scrubbed from old, dried blood left there by some undead fellow.

"Prove me wrong then, Necromancer!"

"I find myself reluctant to educate moody, obstinate, foolhardy brats, Wizard."

His hand was gripping his dagger tightly, tensely; my wand arm was just as tense, ready to spring into action. We just stared and waited for the tiniest sign of offensive movement from each other.

I don't know why the situation always seemed to end with the urge to curse and duel rising up till the breaking point. My duelling muscles were itching and my berserker side was just waiting to be unleashed. Well, hypothetical berserker side, at the least. To my defence, I was sure that I was not the one to blame. This man... This man was a kind of a paradox to me. And all right, let's be honest to ourselves, shall we? Most probably, the bad endings stemmed from my sour mood and my current intolerance for riddles and mysteries. Frankly, I had enough of them today. All I wish for was to spend a great night with Dora and chill out. And what did I get?

"Okay... What's going on?" demanded a feminine voice I got to be very familiar with.

Right. Apparently, I got Dora. How nice...

_...Careful you must wish..._

Heh! Yeah, right. But of course.

Damned diviners...

So there she stood in the backdoor of the tavern, just on edge of the porch, tensed up and ready for quick intervention. How she got there was a good question. As far as I observed, that backdoor led to the kitchens and backrooms from the counter. Zerda must have let her in. They've became quite the pals here. I think he developed a crush on her...

Irrelevant! Damage control plans were the high priority necessities right now. Focus—**wizard!**

"Don't worry, Tonks! I have the situation under control. Stay out of this!" I really said that, didn't I? Best choice of response ever, mate, good job! And she noticed too, how **very** observant of her.

"Yeah, I can see that," she commented thusly with prospectively heavy sarcasm and drew her wand slowly, but with care not to aggravate the source of threat further. "What's going on, really? Who's this?"

"Ah, I gather you are the fine young woman Master Harry James was talking about. Such pleasure to finally lay my eyes on your beauteous visage!"

He made it sound like a line which a seventeenth century voyeuristic pervert would use. Dora too was stunned into silence for a moment. I could see why: the overall look of the situation, the tone in which the aggressor spoke and the actual things he spoke of were like all shades of gray. Not unlike the overall appearance of this guy, to think of it. White mane, black cape, grey eyes. Shiny manner, grim humour, and a few loose clogs here and there in the brain department, I believed.

"Erm... mine's the pleasure..." she managed to say finally amid her confusion.

"Would you translate what I tell you to Master Harry James here? Perhaps he is more eager to drink words from your lips, my dear," he said just as sweetly as before.

"Harry, what's going on?" Dora asked now with a touch of panicking demand in her voice - which regained its strength by now. The 'I'm a freakin auror, pal. Obey, or I'll roundhouse-kick your arse off!' aura was rippling around her. That's more like it, baby! And our man was damn right on one, that I was eager as hell to do things with her lips right now... Damn it! I **hate **distractions.

Okay. Giving a sitrep for Auror Tonks, right away. Carefully...

"Another 'zinc' got flushed down the drain..." I told her. Sideways, off-note-like, not taking my eyes off the badger. Just in case. But fear was unfounded for he merely cocked his head to the left in a remarkable imitation of a dog.

In Queen's English the sentence meant: Another 'Curious Non-Confidential' learned about secret Marauder stuff – plan, blueprint, item, place, person, top-notch/hush-hush gossip, etc. Not the standard auror code-speech. This was our invention. Call it second generation Marauder-malarkey. A total of five people, the reformed Marauders spoke it. Dora is the fourth and Gin's the fifth, if it may not be clear. Furthermore, I am proud to say that I am one of the inventors of it. Semi-**serious** achievement... Haha!

"Whatever you say. Now, would you please convey to Master Potter that I know perfectly well what he is carrying and that this knowledge is the very reason it is my concern as well?" asked the Necromancer, speaking to Tonks, but still watching me intently.

I wanted to object being referred to in third person, when I was clearly standing before him, but it was so obvious. And as he was looking straight at me, the question would have been foolish. I would not make a fool of myself, like he just did. Didn't he?

"I can understand you clearly. What I don't understand is your reason. Why knowing about **her** would—I dunno, 'compel' you to be concerned about my mastery over her?" I told him firmly. Damned mysticism! Why can't we just say things straight and get to the point? Leah and Cain knew about her too, and they've never gave such a fuss about it.

"You just merely rephrased your earlier question, which I have already answered. Search for the meaning too hard and you'll be unable to find it, even if it's right under your nose."

I twirled my wand harmlessly. It just looked very cool – like in a western film. And then I tilted my head so my neck crackled. These, along with my expression should be enough for him to understand that he had exactly ten seconds to elaborate until I spank him hard on the arse. Figuratively. Unleash my wrath upon him is so overused. Though, undoubtedly, that's what I'd do if provoked. I was just in a spanking mood. True, I'd much prefer Dora's firm little... Right. Enough.

By the way, he got the message!

Joy.

"Only a very few people know anything about the Azurewrath. Even fewer know about its fate'. And only seven people, including myself and Cain - the batty old magician, as you called him know - know about the existence of a shard or the original sword. A shard that was acquired by the corrupted Izual."

So he's involved, because I'm the master of the Shard?

"What do you want from me, then?" I asked bluntly.

"The Shard."

No joy.

"Sorry, I called dibs first..." I countered and raised my wand ready. "But before we commence on the inevitable, I have to ask: why?"

"You possess neither the experience nor the skill to properly wield it. And I can figure that you only begin to grasp the faintest idea what this artefact is capable of. I must seek the one who can truly be the master of it."

"She's chosen me. Don't you think it counts as something?"

"You surely don't want to risk your life by remaining its master. As I gathered from your earlier tirade, you've got enough chagrin without it. Don't bother with our problems, go home and help your people! Leave the Shard to me. You can simply give it to me as a gift. Or you may not want to, in which case I really have to apply force, because one way or another, but I'm leaving with the Shard. Please, be reasonable, I really don't want to fight you for it."

"Look, I **have** to risk my life here in order to receive help, with which help we can somehow go back home, where I can risk my life **again **to help my friends. It's **that** simple. But basically yes, I don't really want to risk my life. Sadly, I have to. I always had to. I'm kind of used to it now. Plus, she chose me, we bonded and it stays that way. End of story."

I was stubborn. He was too, plus also livid. But She really clung onto me and I really didn't want to let her go. We bonded! How could he not see the significance of this? By now, he was shouting. Interesting how I managed to blow his fuse and rouse his rage. Good job!

"You are not adequate enough for its mastery!"

"How do you know?"

"You're just a boy! And even more: an outlander! You are ignorant to the deep lore of this world. No matter how skilled you are, you are not qualified! You just see a shiny new toy, which you think has a benevolent spirit entrapped in it and believe that it has taken a liking of you which resulted in a familiar bond of mutual attraction and care. You. Are. Wrong." he yelled desperately. It struck an odd thought somewhere in the back of my mind.

"So? You follow me around and when I fail, you can watch it and smile, then pick up the Shard from my mangled corpse, what does it matter to you?"

"It's not your responsibility, nor is it your burden. And certainly not your time to die! I cannot allow you to die because of your unreasonable, idiotic, childish stubbornness, when I could have easily done something before anything had happened!"

Wow. Did I just--did he just...

"Oh, did we just stray near **your** tender topic, didn't we now?"

"Enough! Just hand me the Shard, then go enjoy your life!"

"Boys..."

I didn't ever hear Dora and I ignored him and tried to figure out the reason behind his exploding.

"You are familiar with this sort of situation..." I wondered out loud.

"Give me the Shard!" And I too was familiar with it, as a matter of fact. Morbidly so. His 'twin', the real Malfoy senior had demanded another magical object from me in the same manner, not that long ago, just before I jumped dimensions here. How refreshing it was that this guy didn't have one of my closest friends held wand-point as hostage.

"Boys!" Yet again, poor Dora was ignored.

"Someone refused to pass over responsibility and died and you held yourself responsible..."

"Silence!"

"Gentlemen!"

"And that someone was young... close to you..."

"Enough!"

"HEY! YOU TWO!" Dora bellowed in a magically amplified, thundering voice. The spell ended and she pointed past us, towards the horizon behind us. "Look!"

Shaken by the exchange and the sudden force the sound-wall hit us with, we looked involuntarily and saw something that stopped my heart for a second.

A fiery star was falling from the sky; a brightly glowing bead of light, leaving a sparkly trail behind.

Dora, Bonecrow – my fresh-made nickname for Malfoy No. 2 – and I all stared at it awed, intrigued and stunned - respectively.

"A falling star..." I muttered. The purple prophetess' words echoed in the hollows of my mind.

_...c__areful must be you, when the shooting star from the Heavens rouse you to make wish..._

"What? Repeat it!" asked the necromancer appearing next to my shoulder, his dagger nowhere in sight.

Did I say it aloud? I must have. Oh, crap!

"That sounded like a warning you'd better heed," he told me frowning at the flying glow.

"It sounded like a bloody prophecy to me, that the crazy, purple granny had told me back in the tavern."

The guy rounded on me and looked very seriously into my eyes. I was officially startled and quite a bit intimidated by the close proximity of his grim aura. And his breathe.

"You've spoken with Akara?"

Akara, the purple prophetess. Apt.

"If that's what her name is, then yes."

"What did she say? Speak!" he demanded and made to grab the front of my shirt, but thought better of it. I was glad. I didn't like being manhandled. Didn't like it one bit. Residue of my eleven years sentence with my demonic captors. I refused to call them my relatives. If blood was the only bond between my mother and her sister – and therefore between me too – then I wanted that tie unmade. Permanently.

Dark thoughts of a dark past and dark deeds.

It was over now. It would not be back haunting me. We were done. Dumbledore confirmed that the blood wards he placed there were nonexistent by the time I was officially put into Sirius' care. That was all the affirmation I needed. We were done for good. Nobody would go rough on me ever again. Nobody would abuse me again. Nobody would ever dare to manipulate me again!

So I had enough anger to show this monochrome peacock who was the king of the hill.

I took a determined step forward, almost bumping my chest into his, but not quite. It was quick, sudden and forceful enough, though, that he involuntarily recoiled back.

"If you want answers from me, then start giving me some in return. Start with the old one: Who the fuck are you and how exactly are you involved in this?" My voice was rough and harsh, and I felt a prickling sensation behind my eyes. One, that usually is situated at my fingertips if I do it wandless style.

He looked startled for a moment and blinked once as he looked at me. Oddly... Very oddly. Too oddly for my liking. But he didn't have any comment to go with the oddity, so I refrained from going into panic that my face might get ugly somehow.

After the odd scrutiny, he finally relented and spoke.

"I am a priest of Rathma, child of Trag'Oul, protector of the Great Cycle of Being. I am one of the Champions of Sanctuary - slayers of the Prime," he intoned in a much practiced and equally uninterested tone. "Or at least—I once was."

This was one of those total shortstop system-failing, eye-widening moments, when you can only say: 'Oh...'

Dora and I said so consequentially, and in tandem, together. My probably more advanced than average brainpower failed me then. It had taken several minutes before I fully comprehended this unambiguous declaration. The weird prickling sensation ceased altogether; as did the growing hostility towards the necromancer in front of me. He watched these emotions playing with us, their vessels, with a sardonic smile. But finally the disinterested, vacant quality won back over his face and that was how he elaborated.

"Just call me Braha."

Slowly, I worked my neck muscles and steered my head to look at my favourite Auror. Unsurprisingly, she mirrored my action with remarkable synchronicity. It was ever less miraculous that our expressions and the underlying emotions and thoughts beneath them were matching as well. Hers said: 'He looks like Malfoy! And heard what he said? Champion of Sanctuary! You know what that means!' Mine conveyed: 'I know, right? And not just his appearance, but the mindscape too! And I understood clearly. Dora, we found one of the heroes! The stray black sheep of the bunch, nonetheless!'

I suddenly realized why he was involved with Her – the Shard, I mean. Of course he would go after the secret weapon which could seriously kick some demon ass; to retrieve it and save the day once again, and also re-validating his 'Club of Diablo Spankers' membership card in the process.

What's with me and spanking tonight?

As I thought of this, Dora's eyes twitched and her lips parted, signifying that she reached most likely the same conclusion. I nodded slightly and we turned back to Braha, the Necromancer.

"So you are one of the heroes. How are your colleges? Seen them recently?" I asked and also very subtly started on our mission too.

"I have not seen them for a long time. No. Why do you ask?"

"I will relinquish the Shard to any living soul only over my dead body - this I swear. So... It seems that if you want yourself near your precious and you also want to keep to your promise that you will not attack me, then you will follow us around some more, yes? Therefore, you will come with us to our journey to find your fellow champions. All six of them. We set off after dawn breaks, after breakfast. Pack lightly. Questions?"

Braha glanced back at the still descending star for awhile. He looked like... the same he look so far, namely: stoic. But I could detect a faint tenor of resignation and acceptance in him. He agreed! Yay! This recruiting business was not that hard! We could totally do this!

"As I said, I have not seen them for near two decades. But you are mistaken in one point. Even at the moment of glory, when we were named Champions, there were only the four of us left. Gerad, the Mighty, the pride of the Order of Zakarum's paladins, Zenia of the Assassins and Mahya... she was a fine sorceress, the finest... they all perished during our quest and only received the title posthumously."

"Which leaves us only three heroes to locate... Oh, also I am really sorry for your... loss..." I said, mighty awkwardly. The way he said the sorceress' name - I involuntarily thought of a little closer acquaintance between them than simple camaraderie.

He just merely nodded in acceptance.

"And how do you know about the Shard? You said only seven people knew about the shattered sword and its shards..."

"There is only one remaining torrent from the Broken Sword: this. It is called the Shard of Azurewrath, the last remnant of Azurewrath, the angelic blade, wielded by the Archangel Izual, commander of the angels given the task to destroy the Hellforge. Izual failed and the Primes captured and tortured him until his spirit broke. Then, using their vile, corrupting power, they twisted him into a demonic form. Reborn in his unholy body, Izual, loyal to the Primes, was cast into the depths of the Burning Hell to guard the Hellforge with the very weapon that he was given to destroy it..."

He paused then and heaved a huge sigh. All the while he was speaking, his eyes remained on the falling star.

"During our quest to rid the world of the Primes, we followed Diablo to the very pit of Hell... and we encountered Izual on the way. That was when... when Mahya died. She sacrificed herself so that I can wound the beast, allowing Gerad to steal the Azurewrath. We escaped from the demon and fled straight to the Hellforge where we destroyed the weapon. Azurewrath was shattered into tiny little splinters, with only three larger shards remaining. One, I immediately destroyed. One was crushed in the chaos of the battle that later ensued. But one disappeared and we could not find it, nor Izual, so we continued on our task..."

So this was to reason of his involvement. His unfinished business with the Hellforge and the ultimate destruction of Azurewrath - mix with a little revenge extraction for his beloved sorceress, now firmly confirmed. Wow...

However, before I could pronounce the first syllable of my freshly lashed-together pre-plan-idea, all three of us were startled by a sound.

Abruptly, like a whip's crackle, a nerve-tearing **scream** was sling-shot into the silent, too silent night air.

It was a scream that carried the horror of someone experiencing their own gruesome death. And it came from the Cathedral's direction.

By the time I noticed Remus' messenger partronus speeding towards us, Dora was already gone. I only hoped she run inside, to pick up Sirius. Braha was fading away into the distance, except for his ivory dagger, which now shone with a eerie inner light. He was like a bone arrow, speeding towards its target with a glowing headtip.

I was left alone with my momentary stun, standing alone in the courtyard. I felt small all of a sudden, and hyper-aware of the grandness of tasked, multiple tasked waiting for me to solve them. I was in a strange new world, with angels and demons and sentient weapons all in a bloody, cruel conflict, in which I happened to gain a central role - what a surprise.

I was... afraid.

And I've never felt this lonely in my life.

What wouldn't I have gave for a user's manual for this... Sanctuary. Or a simple guide... Or a kind, supporting character, who would just be there whenever I needed a little boost on my morale. I wished Ginny was here... she'd know what to-- Oh, wait! No. That was NOT a wish. Just wishful thinking... Nostalgic reminiscing... Right? Right?

"HARRY! Hurry up! C'mon!"

Hearing Dora's shout snapped me back into reality, back into my proper mindset. I was ME again. Feeling the chilly breath of the Shard brushing against my heaving chest, was also a nice reaffirming touch. Newly determined, I gripped it through my shirt and set my mind on a faint picture of the entrance of the Cathedral. I quietly pleaded the Black cousins to hurry and then, willed myself to my destination: to the unknown danger.

For the dance has begun.


End file.
